


What We Are

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-08
Updated: 2009-02-08
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:50:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 46,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Starts during the MS hearings and runs through Bartlet's second inauguration. It also gets needlessly angsty, quite frankly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

DONNA’S POV

All right. I’ve had about enough of this. I mean seriously, the entire bullpen can hear them. Amy came by about 20 minutes ago, 22 to be exact, walked into Josh’s office and closed the door. Precisely 74 seconds later, the yelling began and it’s been going on ever since. I can’t hear clearly most of what they’re saying, but every now and then one of them raises their voice enough for me to catch a phrase. I must say I was pretty mortified when I heard Josh say “Don’t talk about Donna like that” while Sam was standing by my desk. I remember my shock at that; Sam looked...well, Sam didn’t seem too surprised too hear something like that, he did beat feet pretty quickly after that though.

This relationship of theirs has been on fritz for a while now. It was pretty much over when it began. She’s constantly fighting him on things and trying to trick him to get her way. It’s not like I’ve always disapproved of this relationship, or mostly disapproved at any rate. I started out mostly supportive. Amy’s pretty, she’s smart, educated, a player in the party, and a challenge to Josh because she had a boyfriend in the beginning. So, of course, Josh was ensorcelled. But Amy’s manipulative, and there’s better ways to get your point across with your boyfriend in my opinion.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for the Josh manipulation, but only when it’s ME doing the manipulating. Well, okay, CJ’s allowed to do it, too, because she’s pretty good at it and more often than not, I benefit from CJ’s Josh manipulation. But when I manipulate Josh, it’s not to beat him. It’s usually to leave the office at a decent hour for a change. And I certainly don’t use sex to do it.

Not that I don’t want to.

Oh please, he’s an attractive man. Pretty much every straight woman in Washington who’s met him wants to sleep with him. And he’s got a great body, too. He started running again. It took him a little while to get back into it because, well, he had bypass surgery and a collapsed lung, so that’ll wreak havoc on your breath support, but he’s been pretty good with it. Plus, when I have control of his diet, I make sure he eats right. Of course, with the right amount of begging, he can get a burnt burger or two in a week, but that’s just me placating him to shut him up.

Yeah, yeah, I know. None of the other assistants give a shit what their bosses eat. Except Margaret. She’s worked for Leo for about 15 years. Margaret’s got Leo pretty well trained. He just tells her when he’s hungry and eats what she hands him. Josh will eat what I give him, too, but not without a lot of bitching first.

Josh and I are different than the other staffers are with their assistants. We were fast friends. It’s my infectious personality; that and Josh is always happy to see me. We’re both incurable flirts, and it’s like a game with us to see who can get the other to blush. So far, neither one of us has won. Though he came damn near close with the Catholic school uniform remark. He caught me off guard with that one.

We look out for each other, too. We always have. He sabotages my dates. I let him. It’s unhealthy, but it works for us. We’re tuned to each other. Amy’s tried to mess with that. And from the sounds of it, it’s not going well.

His office door finally flings open and she comes stomping out. It looks like she’s going to leave the bullpen, but she catches sight of me standing in my cubicle and she heads my way.

Oh, shit. Seriously. I’m really not in the mood for this. Thank God it’s about 8 o’clock at night and mostly everyone is gone. She wants to confront me. This happened with Mandy once, too, but Josh was in a different state at the time. Well, she’s about to put the last nail in the coffin because I’m sure whatever she’s about to say, he’ll hear, and it won’t go over well. She stops in the entrance of my cubicle and I look expectantly at her. She leans up against the frame and crosses her arms. I’ve seen this move. She’s trying to disarm me. Won’t work.

“I give you a lot of credit, Donna, I really do. I don’t think I could keep working with him if people were talking about ME like that.”

Okay. Maybe it will work.

“What are you talking about?” I ask her. I mean, really. What the hell is she talking about?

“The things people say about you two.” she says. “I mean, it takes a strong person to hold your head high, and say screw it, and go work in a fish bowl every day.”

Okay. I’m not really sure what’s going on here. What people say about me and who? She’s giving me her smug face, too. I really want to belt it off her face with this enormous binder I’m holding right now, but the binder seems to be taking the brunt of the boiling tension that’s mounting in my body. There’s really only one thought going through my mind right now. What they’re saying about ME and WHO?

There’s a very loud bang from Josh’s office. Nearly immediately following that bang, he appeared in his doorway.

HO-OLY Shit he looks pissed.

“You can leave right now, Amy, or you can be escorted by the park police, but you are persona non grata here now. I’m revoking your standing pass. If you need to come here, someone else is going to have to sign you in.”

Amy gives me one last smug smirk then turns back to Josh. “Who’s going to be your cover now, J?”

“Oh for the love of God! Just. Call. Him. Josh!!!” Looks like I found my voice.

Josh smirks a bit and Amy leaves the bullpen. I now start slamming my binder up against stuff in my cubicle. The filing cabinet is taking quite the beating when Josh grabs me by my elbow and propels me towards his office. Once we’re over the threshold, he closes the door.

“Slam in here.” he orders. But I’m done. Now I’m back to what she said.

“What was she talking about, Josh?”

“What do you mean?” He’s stalling for time, I think.

“You heard what Amy said to me. It’s why you came out of your office. So, what did she mean, and when you were fighting with her in here, why did you tell her to stop talking about me like that?”

“You heard that?”

“Everyone who’s left out there heard it.”

He sighs and sits down in his chair. He’s tired. He’s looked like this all day, and then she showed up unexpectedly. Things are heating up in the campaign and things have been heating up in the White House. The President was pissed as hell over the welfare bill and he jumped up and down on Josh a few times. I was pretty pissed about it, but then he jumped up and down on Toby yesterday for something weird, too. So I guess he’s blowing off steam. Amy’s appearance here tonight really didn’t help much.

“Josh.” I say trying to soften my tone a bit. He looks up at me and there’s something strange in his eyes. I’m not quite sure what it is. It’s something I’ve never seen before. “She said that people were talking about me and someone. Who’s the someone?”

“Donna.”

“If people are talking about me, I think I have a right to know who it is and what they’re saying.”

“I don’t really know.”

“Josh.”

“They’re talking about us, but I don’t really know exactly what they’re saying.”

“Us? Okay, like, us like who? The administration?”

“Me and you.” He looks away when he says that. I guess to let me absorb that.

Me and him. Okay. All right. I think I have to sit down.

“What about us?”

He looks at me like I’ve sprouted another head. Yeah. That’s what I was thinking they meant. They’re saying we’re sleeping together. Part of me is flattered actually. I mean, I’m important enough to be lied about, so I guess that means I’ve arrived. Right? The other part of me is coming to terms with what this really means. I’m his girl on the side. I have my job because he’s fucking me. Suddenly, something that half an hour ago was the most important thing in my life, our friendship, has just turned dirty. I’ve just turned dirty. And cheap.

“Oh my God.” I’m not sure he actually heard me say that. Nope. His eyes just snapped up to mine. He did. He’s looking at me strangely now. I feel like the walls of the office are closing in on me now and I’m starting to have a hard time breathing. My stomach’s turning over and my heart’s pounding. My eyes are starting to sting. I’m going to lose it, and I need to get out of here or he’s going to see it, and I’m going to be mortified.

I try and suck in some air and turn towards the door. I guess he’s faster than me in my weakened state because as soon I start to open it, he slams it shut with one hand, and spins me around to face him with the other. I bring my hands up to my face because I can’t look at him. I can’t let him see the pain in my eyes right now, and I can’t hide it. I feel his arms come tightly around me and my knees give out. He must feel me begin to drop because he eases us to the floor, and I’m in his lap sobbing against his chest. He’s holding me tightly and rocking me back and forth.

If somebody walked in on us right now, they’d probably think somebody died. I’m that upset right now. And, you know, I don’t think they’d really be that far off the mark. What he was to me is now different and it changed without my consent. Half an hour ago, he was more than just my boss, he was my friend. He was my best friend actually. And I’ll admit it, he was the man I was in love with. Now, he’s somebody that people are lying about me with. Now I know when people see us together, they’re whispering behind their hands. They’ll be wondering if now that Amy’s out of the picture if we’ll get back to it. Or maybe they didn’t see Amy as a cover. Maybe they’ve just assumed we were a threesome.

“Donna, please stop crying.” he pleads. “You know I hate it when you cry.”

He does too. He can’t stand it when I cry. An unhappy Donna totally unspools him. I mean, he can handle it okay if I’m crying because I’m happy, but when I’m crying because I’m unhappy...let’s just say it doesn’t sit well with him. I like when he’s around when I’m crying over a man because he gets his war face on. But now I’m crying because of him, and it’s not even his fault. He’s made me cry before, and he’s felt really bad about it, but I guess there’s really nothing he can do about it.

“I’m sorry.” I mumble into his chest. I’m starting to become aware that he’s rubbing gentle circles on my back.

“It’s all right. I just hate it when you cry.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry people are saying that about you.”

He stops rubbing my back and I can feel him tense up. Huh. This is an interesting change.

“What?”

“I’m sorry that people are talking about you like that. I mean, these are people that you have to work with, and something like this can damage your credibility.”

He puts his hands on my cheeks and pulls my face up to look at him. I can see the remnants of tears in his eyes. See, I told you he hates it when I cry. You probably just thought that he just didn’t like to deal with a weepy woman. Uh-uh. He REALLY hates it when I cry.

“Are you kidding me? Listen to me. I’M sorry they’re saying it about YOU. This isn’t about me, Donna, this is about you. And this is nothing new. People will always say things like this. It’s jealousy and spite and misunderstanding. And I’M the one that’s sorry.”

He lets me go and I consider standing up, but, well, truthfully, Josh and I don’t often have intimate moments like this, so I go back to where I was and he goes back to the arms and the back rubbing thing, only now, he’s shifted so he can lean up against the door.

“They’re saying awful things?”

“I don’t know exactly.” he confesses. “I really don’t. I imagine so.”

“To you?”

“No, Donna.” he laughs. “They’re mean, they’re not stupid.”

“One day they will.”

“That person will be incredibly sorry.”

“When you least expect it. They’ll do it to get at you.”

“I promise, I will defend your virtue.”

“Josh...”

“I’m serious, Donna. You think I unloaded on Mary Marsh? Wait until you see the poor fool who’s stupid enough to ask me that.”

I sigh and wrap my arms around his waist. His arms go tighter around me, and I feel his head rest on top of mine. This is a nice moment. It’s one of the few we have like this. I’m going to ruin it now.

“I don’t think I’d be half as upset about this if what they were saying was actually true.”

Yeah, I can feel that tension in him again.

“Donna.”

“I’m just saying, I should have at least gotten something out of it.”

“We’ve talked about this.” He’s gone back to rubbing my back now. We have talked about this. We got drunk one night and got into it. We decided it was a bad idea.

“I know.”

“We decided it was a bad idea.”

I pull back and look up at him. He has that weird look in his eyes again.

“Why was that again?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I can’t remember.”

“Guess it wasn’t that good of a reason.”

He smiles slightly. “Guess not.”

I stand up and reach a hand down to him to help him up off the floor. He grabs it and pulls himself up, but I can’t help but notice he doesn’t immediately let it go. 

“You okay?” he asks. I nod my head. He squeezes my hand and drops it, and I open the door and go back out into the bullpen.

TBC


	2. What We Are

CJ’S POV

Josh is hovering outside my door. He’s clearly trying to work up the courage to come in here. He’s got to talk to me about something, but he’s freaked out about it, and that makes me think it’s something personal. Whether he screwed up or not, professionally, he’s never been afraid to talk to me. So this has got to be personal.

“Mi amore, get your ass in here.”

He slides in, closes the door and drops down into a chair.

“I need a friend.” he announces.

Huh. This is weird. I only get the ‘I need a friend’ bit when it has to do with....

Oh shit.

...Donna.

Sam told me about the argument Josh and Amy had last night and what he and Donna overheard.

“Why is this always so hard for you to figure out, Joshua.” I say. “You piss off Donna, you apologize. That’s the way it works.”

“I didn’t piss her off.”

“Okay. If Amy pisses her off, you apologize.”

“Well, Amy was just kind of the catalyst here. And we’re done, by the way.”

“You and Amy?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that died a slow death and painful death.”

“Yes, it did.”

“Okay, mi amore, spill your guts.”

“What do they say about me and Donna?”

Hmm. I wasn’t quite expecting that. I mean, I figured it had to do with Donna, but I didn’t figure it had to do with this. Maybe he’s not so stupid.

“What do you think they say, Josh?”

“Well, I’m assuming they’re saying we’re sleeping together.”

“Yup.”

“For how long?”

“Some say since the campaign, some say more recently.”

“What do they say about that?”

“That you’re sleeping together.”

“Does anybody seem to care?”

Ah. I see where this is going. See, Donna’s my girl. When I feel the need to cut loose and get drunk, Donna’s right there for me. She’s the only other woman in the building with remotely a clue of what I go through. She’s closer to the senior staff than the other assistants. She comes out with us a lot.

Donna and I got drunk one night, and I mean D-R-U-N-K, she stayed in my guest room, that’s how drunk we got, and we talked about Josh and Danny. She told me that she and Josh had discussed them once and decided they’d be a bad idea. I disagreed, but didn’t meddle.

We really like Donna; Toby, Sam and I. And since Rosslyn and Christmas, the three of us have really seen what she is to Josh. Josh and Donna go a lot deeper than any of us thought. He responds to her. When Donna went to Leo and told him she thought something was wrong with Josh, Leo didn’t ask a single question. He just picked up the phone and called ATVA. I don’t know the full details of what really happened there, but for a few weeks after that, Josh and Donna were virtually surgically attached at the hip. He was nervous when she wasn’t around. If we were in senior staff, he was fidgety and distracted; if I met with him in his office, he was okay. It was kind of weird. She’s got a lot of influence over him.

Every now and then, I think the need for sex gets the better of one of them, hence Amy. But I’ve never seen one of them actually date someone they’d have a future with. They’re leaving themselves open for each other. I wasn’t a fan of Amy. Amy manipulates Josh. The only two people who are allowed to manipulate Josh are me and Donna. And usually, it’s for our own nefarious purposes, like we want to go out and get drunk or I want Donna to leave the building with me to go shopping and Josh wants her to stay. In four years, we’ve never done it to actually control him, which is what Amy did. And it unnerved the hell out of him, too.

“No, Josh.” I say. “I don’t know that anyone really cares that much.”

“So why shouldn’t I then?” he asks. “You’re the press secretary. Tell me why it’s a bad idea.”

“I wouldn’t make it known until after the election, just to be on the safe side,” I say. “But quite frankly, I don’t think there will be too much over it. What you’d have to deal with is what people say to you when you’re out together. There’s really no where to go with it in the news.”

“You don’t think it’s going to be a thing?”

“I don’t think it’s going to be a damaging thing.” I say. “Politically anyway. We’re democrats; people expect this of us.”

“Donna thinks people will say things to me just to get at me.”

“Donna’s smarter than you.”

“This I’ve always known.”

“Has the nature of your relationship already changed?”

“Not physically.”

“You’ll tell me if it does?”

“Yeah.”

He stands up, but stays there a minute. Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in his mind, and sometimes I’m scared as hell to find out. I know I kid him, and I know I call him Idiot Boy when I’m pissed at him, but there’s a reason Josh is Deputy Chief of Staff and none of the three of us are.

“Josh?”

“Hmm?”

“You should let her love you.” I say.

TBC


	3. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

I should let her love me. That’s what CJ says. I’ve let Donna love me for years. What CJ should have said was I should let me love her. Amy was out of line with some of the things she said to me in my office yesterday. Amy’s always been jealous of my relationship with Donna; she’s always felt threatened by her. And rightfully so, really. It’s not like I was ever going to actually love Amy. Amy was a release really. A challenging one; but a release nonetheless. And a distraction.

When I was still in the ICU, my mother and Abbey ganged up on Donna one day to get her to go home for a little a while. I’m not 100 percent sure Donna actually did go home, but she did leave the room for a little while. And when I say a little while, I’m not kidding you, it was less than an hour. Abbey used that time wisely though. She told me about Donna’s reaction to finding out I got shot and she told me how she watched my surgery; hours of it actually. It felt really good to know that she was watching over me like that. Really good. Donna took my heart that day for safekeeping. I haven’t gotten it back yet. Quite frankly, I’m not really sure I ever thought I would.

Abbey and my mom’s plan was to have me tell Donna to go home, assure her I’d be fine without her for a while, let her get out of the hospital. The thing was, I wasn’t fine when she wasn’t around. I wasn’t remotely fine. My entire life was in turmoil. I had a bullet wound in my chest and my heart was stopped for 16 hours. Obviously, I wasn’t going back to work for a while; obviously, I was at the whim of doctors and physical therapists. Donna was the only one who made me feel better; she’s the only one who didn’t make me feel sorry for myself; she’s the only one that didn’t look at me and cry. And they wanted me to get rid of that? Yeah, let’s just say their plan failed. I needed an anchor and Donna was it.

I knew I was having problems at Christmas. I knew things weren’t right. I just didn’t know what to do about it. Quite frankly, I trusted Donna to figure it out, and she did. Well, she mostly did. She figured out there was a problem. I spent eight hours with Stanley. In the follow up sessions I had with the therapist he recommended, I talked about Donna. It was readily becoming apparent to me that Donna kept me from losing it completely. I started to get scared. If she wasn’t around, who would see? Who would pick up on the signs? I still feel that way, actually. She’s tuned to me and I count on that.

Amy said Donna had a case of hero worship and if I really cared about her, I’d do something about it. What does Amy think she was? I hoped that by going out with Amy, Donna would find someone and not get as sucked in by me as I was by her. Plus, I thought that if I got into a relationship, I could distance myself a bit from her. I could learn to not be so dependent on her.

Didn’t work.

I made myself miserable with Amy for months. It wasn’t fair to me, to Amy, or to Donna. Hey, I never claimed to always be right.

Okay. I HAVE claimed to always be right, but I never claimed to make the best judgment calls.

So, I’m thinking then that I’m ready for a relationship with Donna. I know Donna is because she told me that she wouldn’t be upset by the rumors if only they were true. I don’t know that this has all been about me getting ready for a relationship with Donna, so much as it’s been me getting ready for what a relationship with Donna means.

Since the moment Donna and I met, we’ve been connected. I have never hit it off with anyone the way I hit it off with her. At first, I thought it was just that I thought it was cool to have an assistant all to myself and not have to share them with anyone, but if that was the case, why did I always want her around? I mean, I always want her around. I don’t need an assistant out at a bar with CJ, Sam, and Toby. I don’t need an assistant on a Sunday afternoon. I never even worked weekends until I met Donna. And I certainly didn’t need an assistant in the ICU. I had many doctors and many nurses there.

So when I started to consider a romantic relationship with Donna, it was becoming glaringly obvious that Donna would be my last romantic relationship. Once I got together with Donna, that was going to be it. I never felt that way before. So, I needed to know how I felt about the rest of it. Living with someone, marriage, kids, changing the course of my career to fit a personal life. No woman had ever forced me to face that before. Well, Donna didn’t force me to think about it. I think she’d be quite shocked to find out that I was, truth be told.

Instead of heading to the operations bullpen, I head for Leo’s office. It’s getting late, and I want to catch him before he leaves for the evening. As I enter his office, he’s sitting behind his desk reading. He’s got his glasses on and for just a moment, I’m nervous. I’m nervous because disapproval from him would be like disapproval from my father, and I’m not sure I can handle that right now because I know for a fact my father would have liked Donna.

“What can I do for you, Josh?” he says finally.

“Well, I just talked to CJ.” I begin. He stops shifting through the paperwork on his desk and looks up.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“So, why are you here then?”

“I want to change the nature of my relationship with Donna.” I announce quickly. Best just rip the band aid right off. He sits back in his chair and studies me. This is actually good. Leo often has a hard time hiding his initial reaction from his staff. Republicans, yes; his staff, no. If he thought this was a bad idea, he’d yell at me, but he’s thinking about it.

“Are you willing to accept transferring her?”

Is he kidding me? I can feel the panic starting to bubble up in me already. Transfer her?

“The whole reason I’m able to do my job every day is because she sits outside my door.” I say evenly.

“Josh.”

“I’m not willing to accept transferring her. Nothing’s happened between us yet. If that’s your plan, I’ll hold off.”

“Well, I think it would be too late for that.” Leo replies. “You’ve already admitted how you feel.”

“I haven’t admitted anything.” I defend. “I said I wanted to change our relationship.”

“Okay, we can both agree that I’m not stupid, right?”

I actually take a gulp here before nodding my head.

“I mean, the alternative here is that you’re telling me that you want my blessing for a one night stand with Donna. You’re not really looking for my blessing to start screwing your assistant because she’s cute, young, and blonde. Are you?”

Damn, he’s good. I feel dirty just hearing that.

“Okay, we can both agree that I’m not stupid, right?” I throw his words back at him.

“I think the jury’s still out on that.”

I roll my eyes and turn around in frustration.

“Come on, Josh. It took you four years to figure out you were in love with Donna?” He’s smirking now. Now he’s just looking to be a pain in my ass.

“Leo, it took me about 15 minutes to figure out I was in love with Donna. It took me four years to know I was ready for what being in love with Donna means.” I look him squarely in the eye now. This is important. That was a lot to convey.

“What does Donna say?”

“I guess I’ll find out.”

I’m not going to tell him what she said to me in my office. I’m not going to tell him that she’s ready, too. I’m not going to let anyone think that she’s been anything but professional since the day we met. I mean, if Donna outs herself, that’s one thing, but I’m sure as hell not going to be the one to do it.

“All right.” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The White House says no comment, so if you can handle the heat, go ahead.”

I smile at him and he looks back down to his desk. I think I actually bounce out of his office and back towards operations. I burst through the bullpen doors and she’s there at her desk. A glance up at the clocks on the wall says it 7 o’clock. 7 p.m. on a Friday night. This is about to blow her mind.

She was pretty upset last night. When I say I hate it when she cries, I really do. It’s heartbreaking. Especially since it’s usually Donna holding me together. When I have to hold her together, it’s messy for me. When she gets upset, I get upset. Last night she was upset because of me, and I didn’t even actually do anything wrong. That’s unacceptable to me on many levels.

I lean against her desk in front of her computer. She hasn’t looked up at me yet. She’s been keeping me at arm’s length today. This sometimes happens with us. When we walk that line, inevitably it freaks one of us out. She looks tired, and I know that she was up all night thinking about it. I cross my arms on top of her computer monitor and lean down to rest my head on my forearms and continue to look at her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she demands after a moment, but not looking up at me.

“I need a reason to look at you?”

“In the middle of the bullpen you do.” she counters. She has a point. If someone starts to pay attention to us now, they might ask questions. However, if it’s someone who actually works in this part of the building, they don’t have the guts to look at me weird right now. She’s the only one gutsy enough to call me on my shit. Everyone else who works in this bullpen trembles when I come in. I like it that way. As a result, I don’t deal with a lot of the knucklehead stuff.

“Okay.” I say but don’t move.

“Okay what?” she asks. She stops typing for a second to write something down on a stenopad that’s never more than six inches away from her and then goes back to what she’s typing. She’s hitting backspace a lot; I think I’m distracting her.

“Okay I have a reason for looking at you.”

“And that is?”

Watch this.

“You’re beautiful.”

Recognition of what I said happens and she looks up at me. I’d smile, but I don’t want her to think I’m flirting, I want her to know I’m serious. If she thinks I’m flirting, she’ll think I want something, and...well...I do, but not what she thinks.

She slams her palms on her desks, launches herself out of her chair and moves around to my side of her desk. Then she yanks me by my earlobe toward my office. Shit! I HATE it when she does that! It’s incredibly painful. She propels me through the door, much like I did to her yesterday and slams it behind her.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me.” I shrug.

“You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not fair!” she says with a stomp of her foot. “You can’t reel me in like this and leave me dangling until the next Amy comes along and then just toss me back in the water!”

“I don’t want to toss you back in the water.”

“Josh!”

Hold on a second. She didn’t quite hear what I said there.

“Wait, what?”

“I don’t want to throw you in the water, I want to keep you hooked.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” I say as I start moving slowly towards her, “that I want there to be an us. I don’t want another night like last night. I want to be with you.”

“Are you drunk?” she asks. She’s totally serious, too.

“No.”

“There can’t be an us.” she says shaking her head. A couple of years ago, I’d probably freak out over that statement, but I know her. She’s going to play devil’s advocate for a while.

“Why not?”

“I’m not going to ruin your career.”

“How exactly do you think that’s going to happen?”

“I work for you.”

“So does everyone else in this building, except Leo and the President.”

“Josh.”

“I don’t care about that argument.”

“I do.”

“No. I think you’re scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Scared of me.”

“I’d never be scared of you.” She says that quietly and with complete conviction. It’s all I can do not to launch myself at her and kiss the hell out of her, but somehow, I think that might not go over well at the moment.

“You’re the one who said last night that it sucked because the rumors weren’t true; you’re the one that questioned our reasons for staying apart in the first place. What happened to all that?”

“I’m the only one concerned about your career.” she counters. For crying out loud! Why is she obsessing over this.

“Let me worry about my own career.”

“You’re doing a pretty shitty job at it, so I’m taking over.”

“How very girlfriend-like of you.” I smirk. I’ve not got her backed up against the door. In other circumstances, this situation would be totally unprofessional, a boss backing his assistant up against the door with the intent to kiss her, but...well...no, it’s still unprofessional, but I don’t give a shit at the moment.

“Josh!”

“Donna, I’ve got approval from Leo and CJ and nothing’s going to happen to my career because I want to be with you. I’m incredibly employable, I’ll be incredibly employable after the election, and I’m a democrat, so there’s nothing all that scandalous here. And since I don’t anticipate applying for a job working for a republican, I’m not too concerned.”

“This is serious.”

“There’s nothing I take more serious.”

“You told me once there’s nothing you take more serious than a presidential election.”

“I told you that the day I met you.” I’m getting awfully close to her pouty lips right now. The reason I know that is because I can’t stop looking at them.

“Right.”

“You changed my mind.” I say finally meeting her eyes. “I take you more serious than anything else in my life. That includes my career.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Of course it should.”

“Josh...”

“You know I love you, right Donna?” I ask earnestly. I mean she couldn’t have missed this all these years, right? “I mean, you knew that already right?” She nods her head vigorously and I smile. See, I told you. We’re tuned to each other. I know she loves me, too. I figured that out when I woke up in the ICU and she was there. But if I wait a second here, she’ll tell me.

“You know too, right?” she asks softly. See, I told you. Now, of course, I’m grinning like a... I don’t know... something that grins a lot.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Donna, because that’s what I should have been doing for the last four years. And when I do, I would prefer you to just think about me and me kissing you and nothing else. Okay?” She nods her head quickly again. God, I love this woman.

I look at her one more time before my lips *finally* make contact with hers. Without heels on, which she isn’t wearing today, she’s a little shorter than me and at the perfect height. I know I’m older than her, but I swear to you, I think we were made on the same day out of the same mold because everything about us fits perfectly. And her lips are delicate like flower pedals and her soft hands come up to my shoulders and dig in. She’s responded immediately to me, like I knew she would. And this is more than the sweetest first kiss I’ve ever had in my life. It’s like a promise, my vow to her that I’ll love her forever and as the kiss deepens, she’s promising the same thing.

“Let’s go home.” I say finally breaking away, and she smiles. It’s 7 o’clock on a Friday night, a ridiculously early hour for us to leave. But I didn’t tell her she could go, I said we should go. And she’s looking at me like I’ve never said anything more brilliant in my life. 

TBC


	4. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

 

It doesn’t take us long once inside the door of my apartment to start shedding clothes. You’d think we’d be more shy, but there’s quite a trail of breadcrumbs from the door to my bedroom. Standing in front of my bed I’ve still got my boxers and a t-shirt on and Donna’s down to this incredibly sexy black slip that leaves me wondering if she wore it because she knew this would be happening. Because I gotta tell you, if this is the kind of stuff that she normally wears under her prim and professional clothes at the White House, I don’t see me concentrating too hard at work in the future. She’s tipped her head back, and she sighs as I kiss the velvety column of her neck. I know every inch of this neck and that was before I put my lips on it. It’s the only part of her body I’ve been able to see with any regularity for four years.

I sit down on the bed and tug her with me and she straddles my lap. She’s incredibly sexy as she arches against me so I can kiss her collarbone. She moans and I almost drop her, I’m so turned on. This is the woman. This is the woman that I have always wanted to hear that sound from. This is the woman that I’ve wanted to look at me like I’m about to get devoured. This is the woman that I’ve waited to make love to all my life.

She works my shirt off and drops a light touch on the angry scar that bisects my chest. The scar is still pink and prevalent, it’s been less than two years and it’s still fading. She’s seen it before, but not since I’ve gone back to work and she takes a moment to gently touch her lips there. The whole area tingles when she does that and I suck in my breath.

“I was so scared that day.” she whispers. “I finally got to the waiting room where the others were. When I got through the door, I saw that you weren’t there, I wouldn’t ask why. It’s like I knew the answer and asking it would make it true. I wouldn’t question why it was Toby telling me about the president and not you. But, then Toby told me what happened to you and that you were in surgery and it was critical. And right then, I knew everyone in the room saw right through me. I couldn’t hide it; I tried, but I couldn’t hide anything.

“I sat in that room before Abbey took me up to the OR to watch through the window. Then, I stood there for hours, when my legs were too tired to stand, I pulled up a chair and sat for hours more. It was like I thought I had to stay near, in case you needed me. You were just so still and your heart wasn’t beating, and I never prayed so hard in my life. I promised God that I’d fall out of love with you, if only he’d let you live and let us go back to work. Abbey and CJ tried to get me to leave, and I wouldn’t, until they finally sedated me.”

“You were sedated?” I ask softly. I’m astounded. I can’t believe it. I had no idea how upset it had made her then. I mean, I knew she took it hard. Sam had told me when I was recovering that she’d been pretty upset, and Abbey talked to me, too, but I figured that was normal. We worked closely together and we were good friends. They all took it hard. But I had no idea the devotion she had shown. Neither CJ nor Abbey had ever told me that little bit of information.

“And then Christmas...” she continues softly crying, and I think I’m going to lose it, too, because like I said, I REALLY lose it when she cries. She’s breaking my heart here. “I’m so sorry, Josh. I’m so sorry I betrayed you to Leo like that, but I didn’t know what else to do! I couldn’t watch that happen to you anymore, you were in so much pain. And I knew I made that deal with God, but I had to break it. You were so angry, and you seemed so lost. I thought that Leo would give you no choice but to see someone that could help you.”

She looks from the scar to me, like she was making some kind of connection. Suddenly, she tenses up and starts to push away. She was freaking out, but I’m not going to let her. I close my arms tightly around her to prevent her escape. It was a heady moment and it’s overwhelming her. I can’t let it.

“I can’t do this, Josh.” she says through her tears. “It’s too ...I just...”

“Donna.” I say, but she doesn’t seem to hear me. “Donna, please look at me.” After a few moments, she meet my eyes. “This is not just sex to me; this is you and me. I don’t want a one night stand. You’re intoxicating, and this is going to be amazing. And I don’t want you to think that this is anything less than what I’ve wished for since the day I laid eyes on you. There’s nobody on this planet that knows me better than you. I’m exhilarated right now and scared to death at the same time. Please, please don’t run away from us.”

I watch as she processes what I just said to her, and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding when she smiles at me. She’s smiling. Things are okay in my world right now.

“That was awfully nice of you to say that.” she smiles

“It wasn’t near as nice as what you said to me.” I grin as she runs her fingers behind my earlobe. I close my eyes and drop my head to her chest. She can do that to me all night. That’s the spot. I never would have admitted before that behind my ear is an erogenous spot, but...damn my friends...maybe it’s just her and what she’s doing, but seriously, I think she could do this for hours.

I suppose she’s still thinking clearly because her fingers stop their ministrations and move on to my shoulders, down my chest, around my waist and up my back. She gives me a little push and I fall back onto the bed and she’s above me now, with her golden hair and that black slip, and I’d rip it right from her body if I wasn’t so curious about what she plans to do up here. She works my boxers down my legs and maintains her position straddling me. Now, I’m completely naked. How come I’m completely naked, and she’s not? Where’s the fairness in this I ask you?

She lowers herself down to kiss me and there’s now satin rubbing all over my body. And it’s nice. It’s very nice. It’s up there on my niceness scale.

She pauses before taking my earlobe in her ear and whispers, “I always wondered what you tasted like.”

Oh my God, that’s hot.

She moves away from my ear, but not before administering a well-placed kiss behind my ear, which practically makes my whole body jolt off the bed. And she moves along to my neck. Evidently, the appetizers are finished and she’s onto the next course. The Josh-tasting continues as she moves along my chest. She’s moving south and if she goes where I think she’s going to go, the night will be over pretty quickly. She’s moved to my stomach and my body jolts again as she dips her tongue leisurely into my belly button. I felt that straight through my stomach and out my back.

“Donna...” I say, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out if I’m protesting or pleading now. She gives me one long, erotic lick and takes all of me in her mouth, and now I can see the face of God.

My toes curl and colors flash behind my eyelids and I press my palms firmly to them. I have to tell her stop. I have to, but I can’t think, and I can’t speak, I can only feel. I try not to think about how amazing she is at this because that would mean admitting she’s honed her technique over the years and that’s more than I can wrap my mind around right now, or you know, ever. But the only thing I can think about is how amazing she is.

“Donna.” I say again, and I don’t think that noise came from my voice as much as my stomach and her head snaps up and she quickly crawls up my body and looks at me. Her golden hair surrounds our faces and I see the concern on her face through my tears.

“Are you all right?” she demands. I nod because I don’t trust myself to speak, and pull her lips down to mine again and try to tell her with my kiss how amazing she is and how much I love her.

She melts against me and I roll us over. This satin thing’s got to go. It glides right off her body with my help, and would you know, there’s nothing underneath. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t going commando before. I mean, I think that’s something I would have noticed, so she must have worked her way out of them herself at some point. Damn. That’s something I wanted to do.

So now we’re both completely naked and my hands and lips are everywhere. She’s arching her back and moaning, and before this night is done, my lips will have introduced themselves to every square inch of her body, I promise you. If this part goes on for hours, so be it.

She cries out my name when it’s my turn to love her and one hand snakes into my hair. I spare a quick glance up to see where the other one is, and smile. It’s pressed against her forehead. I feel her body shudder around me as a small whimper escapes her lips. I slide back up her body and she takes my face in her hands. She holds my face there and my eyes never leave hers as I slide into her. The feeling of her surrounding me is so sweet and she’s calling me home.

It occurs to me as I’m inside of her with nothing between us that we never actually discussed protection. It occurs to me that she’s my first partner where I never HAD to discuss that. We’re both clean, and I know she’s on the pill. I’ve never in my life had unprotected sex and it seems fitting that she’d be the only one I share that with.

She shifts her legs and I sink deeper. I drop my head on the pillow next to hers and we look into each other’s eyes. She whispers she loves me and that’s all I need to get the show on the road. She links our hands as our bodies move together. When she finds her release, I let myself go, then fall down into her outstretched arms. We’re panting and our bodies are slick. We roll to our sides, staying connected and intertwined. She’s crying, and I suppose in another life, it would concern me that the woman I just had sex with was crying, but this is a new life, and the last thing that was was sex.

I whisper I love her, and kiss her gently, and it’s not long before we drift off to sleep. 

TBC


	5. What We Are

CJ’S POV

Donna’s humming to herself as she walks through the communications bullpen. Josh is in with Bruno and I’m on my way back up from the mess with breakfast. I’m just coming up to my office when I see her and call out to her. She glides into my office and leans up against the doorframe. This is a woman that’s been well and truly laid.

“So, friend of mine,” I smile. “I called you last night. I thought you might be interested in checking out that new wine bar in Foggy Bottom that Carol told me about, but you were no where to be found.”

“You didn’t call my cell?”

“Went right to voice mail.”

She knows. She totally knows I know that she was at Josh’s last night. I saw them leave together, plus I had spoken with Josh earlier in the day. Now, anyone who knows Josh as well as I do, and has been in the presence of him and Donna for more than 30 seconds would know that he once he made up his mind to finally pursue her, he’d be all over it...or her.

“Oh. Well, I was...”

“Changing the nature of your relationship with Josh?” 

“In a manner of speaking.” She confesses.

“I see.” I nod. “And how would you describe the nature of your relationship now?”

“He is my beloved; he is my beau; he is the wooer of me.”

“The wooer of you?” I repeat and she nods with a smile. “Someone seems a bit enamored.”

“Enamored?” she repeats. “I am one that is enamored, yes.” She smiles at me again and glides back to her cubicle.

Okay. I must find Josh. I mean, how good in bed must he be to put that kind of smile on her face? I’ll ask her about it later. I’d ask her now, but she’s on cloud nine and I won’t get any cold hard details from her at the moment. It’s just going to be a bunch of mushy shit. But if Donna is this far gone, quite frankly, I’m dying to see how Josh is.

I fly out of my office and down the hall to the Roosevelt Room. I look through the door a minute. I know the look on his face. He’s not listening to a word Bruno is saying. This is dangerous. I hope Bruno didn’t say anything of actual import. I burst through the door, and both men look up at me. Bruno smiles. He wants t get me into bed, I can tell. Josh looks disappointed.

“Mi amore,” I say. “I just saw Donna.” His face softens and he smiles.

“Donna?” he repeats and I nod. “My captivating, delightful, angelic, pulchritudinous --“

“Pulchritudinous?”

“760 verbal.” he boasts. “There was a reason.” Then he continues with his description. “Gorgeous, scrumptious, delectable assistant?”

“I think scrumptious and delectable are the same thing.” Bruno pipes in.

“She’s so tasty, I had to say it twice.” he shrugs.

“So we’ve passed the point of no return?” I surmise.

“Yes.” he simply confirms. “We’ve gone from what we were to what we are.” Hmm...perfect answer for the press there. This is why he’s one of my valued spin boys.

“Are you saying you’re bewitched?” I ask. He now looks mortified.

“Bewitched? No, no, no, my dear Claudia. This is not bewitchment. I am head over heels, mad about, and downright in love with Donnatella Moss.”

“Mad about?” Now this is getting fun. I mean seriously, just how many orgasms did this man have last night?

“She has put the whammy on me.” he says, and it confirms for me that he had many.

“Just how good was the sex, Joshua?” I can’t help but ask, and Bruno has now become interested in the conversation. The pig.

“I will not defile the good name of my beloved in front of Bruno.” Josh says.

“All right, then.” I say. “Are you going to stop talking like you stepped out of a Harlequin book?”

“Not today.”

“Then I’m staying far away from you.”

“I have eyes for but one woman today anyway.” he announces. I roll my eyes and leave the Roosevelt Room. I’m happy for these two. I really am. I’m hoping that the little love fest stops soon and they just go back to being in love like they were yesterday, but you know, with each other, because they’re just too sweet for me today.

I head back to my office via the operations bullpen. As I walk through the double doors, I see Donna slamming around her cubicle.

“What’s the matter?” I ask. I mean, two minutes ago she was on cloud nine here.

“Josh’s deposition notice came today.” she spits out.

Yup, love fest part over, real world crashing down now.

TBC


	6. What We Are

DONNA’S POV

What was starting out as like the second best day of my life, yesterday being the best, has now turned to shit. Trust freaking Congress to fuck my shit up. Yeah, you heard right. That’s Donna with the potty mouth.

Josh’s deposition notice came today. How in the grand scheme of things I ended up testifying before him, I have no clue. I suppose they wanted to see what they could get out of me to use against him. And Cliff, and the diary and all that shit is all nice and fresh. So, now Josh, the love of my life, has to go sit and get probed by Cliff, my one night stand, who knows Josh is the love of my life because he read all about it in my freaking diary. Is Melrose Place on the air? I think this is a good plot for them. By they way, at the moment, CJ and Leo know he’s the love of my life, NOT Congress. Congress wasn’t going to find out until after the election. We were going to try and be low key until then. I mean, we weren’t going to sneak around and lie, but we weren’t going to be, like, making out on the mall, you know what I mean?

Obviously, when Josh got subpoenaed originally, we knew he’d have to testify at some point, but I really hoped this would be over before he did. I know, I know. Welcome to the NFL, Donna, but well...shit.

Cliff must be in quite the pickle right now. He knows all about Stanley and Josh’s “fear of rectangles.” I mean, they can easily twist it that the Bartlet administration is concealing two illnesses, three if counted Leo’s alcoholism last year. Cliff can’t use the diary without incriminating himself, but he’s got the knowledge, so he can find legitimate methods to get the evidence. Josh hates republicans, and he really hates Cliff, for no other reasons than I slept with him and he’s a republican, but he doesn’t hate them enough to perjure himself under oath to protect himself. Me on the other hand, I love Josh enough to perjure myself to protect him. At least I wasn’t directly asked THAT question.

I’m biting my lip trying to figure out if I’d really miss my family and friends if I kidnaped Josh to Canada and kept him out of the country until this whole thing blows over when my man himself comes sauntering into the bullpen. I’m momentarily distracted by how hot he looks today in faded jeans and a brown polo shirt that show off the cutest butt in politics and I automatically follow him into his office and close the door. It isn’t until he turns around and I’m face to face with him that I remember the deposition notice that’s currently burning my fingertips.

I guess he senses the change in me because now he looks concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

My eyes are welling up with tears and I hand him the notice. He looks it over and back up at me. He’s clearly confused. “Okay.” he shrugs. “Clear my schedule for that day.” He walks behind his desk and drops the notice down. It floats down and I’m surprised it doesn’t burst into flames once it hits the desk. What? I am NOT being melodramatic here!

“Josh!”

“What?” he looks up at me and crosses back over to me. He puts a hand up to the side of my neck and kisses me. For a couple of minutes.

That was nice.

Wait a minute. Didn’t I come in here for something? Damn him and those lips!

“This is bad.” I say.

“Okay. I’ll try again.” he leans in again, but I stop him.

“Not that!” I huff. Seriously, I don’t think it’s possible that he’ll ever kiss me badly.

“Donna, what’s wrong?” he repeats.

“This deposition is next week!” I exclaim. “I could probably postpone it once, MAYBE twice if I flirt a bit, but I can’t put it off indefinitely.”

“Why would you postpone it at all?”

Yes, I’m looking at him like he sprouted another head. Was the sex THAT good last night that he’s lost the ability to focus today?

Hold on a second. Seriously, was it? Because if it was, that’s some kind of power I’ve got.

“Josh, it’s Cliff that’s doing the questioning, remember?”

He sighs and leans back against the visitors chair directly behind him. “Well, that’s certainly a mood killer.” He rubs a hand over his face and looks back up at me.

“Josh! He knows about Christmas Eve.”

“You don’t have to talk in code, Donna. I know what you’re talking about.”

“It was in my diary, Cliff knows.”

“Well, he can’t ask it that way without hanging himself with the same rope, so he’ll have actually find another way.”

“That’s easy enough. He just has to ask you if there’s any lingering effects from the shooting.”

“Donna, baby, it’s not like I’m going without a lawyer.” he says reaching out and rubbing my arms.

“How are you going to explain the attitude I’m sure you’re going to have towards Cliff?”

“Everyone in the room will assume I despise him because he’s republican. I’m a professional hostile witness. They know what to expect when I walk through that door.”

I’m not convinced. I am far from convinced. This is a nightmare. It’s quite possible that I’ve ruined his career in politics with that stupid diary. I mean, has this man taught me nothing? I put something that damaging in writing? And then leave it out for the enemy to see? I thought Cliff was decent with the whole way that was handled, but now I see that was a mistake. This right here is how we lose all credibility. This right here is where the wheels come off the wagon.

My eyes start to sting again and he pushes himself off the visitor’s chair and wraps his arms around me. I’m crying on his shoulder now.

“Donna, they were going to ask me that question whether or not you wrote it in a diary.” he says soothingly. I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard Josh’s soothing voice, but it’s really gentle. “I’ve been through this already with Babish. I’ve been through this already with Leo and the President.”

“So you have a plan then?” I ask hopefully.

“The plan is to answer the question.”

“Well, that’s brilliant. Three of the most brilliant men in America came up with that? They’re going to make you the scapegoat? You go in there and say yes, you have post-traumatic stress disorder that you didn’t tell anyone about, and they’re not going to think you advised the President to conceal his illness too?”

He pulls away and looks at me. “CJ was right, you really are smarter than me. I’m really turned on by that.”

“Josh!”

“Donna, I’m not running for office, I don’t hold an elected position. I’m not required to hold a press conference for that. They’ll ask me the question and I’ll answer it. That happened three months ago, not years ago.”

Okay. Well, maybe he’s got a point there. I gotta tell you though, maybe he’s got that angle covered, but I still feel like there’s this dark cloud engulfing us. And I’m not kidding. I’m postponing that deposition at least once. If they’re going to go after him with both guns blazing, you best believe I’m jerking them around first. He’s just going to have to deal with that.

He leans back against the chair again and pulls me to stand between his legs. He’s the perfect height right now to start kissing my neck and collarbone and I’m having a hard time remembering what we were just talking about. Evidently, he’s found a new way to distract me. 

TBC


	7. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

The first thing the committee chair, Congressman Bruno, does after I’m sworn in is comment on how happy the committee is that we were finally able to work out a convenient day to get me here. Yes, that’s right. Donna postponed this twice. After she did it the first time, I specifically forbade her from doing it again. I used my boss voice and everything. She deliberately defied that order. I was pissed about it, too, but then she got naked and I got over it. I mean, it’s cute really. She’s got no control over what’s happening now, but at least she got to mess with them a bit before I put my neck on the chopping block.

The senior staff, Leo, and the First Lady all rate a televised hearing, so there’s cameras and pool photographers everywhere. I got Oliver Babish with me and lawyer from my father’s firm. You can imagine the stroke Toby’s having right now on television. This is the one thing we couldn’t prep for. We’re not supposed to talk about our testimonies. I know, I know. You’re thinking I talked about this with Leo and the President. I didn’t talk about my testimony. I talked about whether or not I should make a separate thing over the PTSD. That whole conversation was PR, though between you and me, it was really about this. We’re politicians, yes, we get shifty sometimes.

Donna’s wonder republican is taking me through all the stock questions, which are really for the benefit of the record and the viewers at home because each and every one of those congressmen up there know all this crap already. As Cliff’s going through his bit, I can’t help but wonder what’s really going through his head. I didn’t read Donna’s diary, but she told me I was the main theme through it. I can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking about that right now; if he’s thinking that it’s because of me they didn’t have a future. That and well, he’s a part of this witch hunt. I know, I know. It’s a witch hunt we orchestrated, but I wasn’t too crazy about this idea of CJ’s. I certainly didn’t mind the special prosecutor we had. If it were still in his hands, I wouldn’t be being brought to you live in C-SPAN right now.

Clifford yields the floor and Congressman Ryerson takes over; Republican, Indiana. I’ll say this anyway, but it goes without saying, really. This guy hates me. I mean, he really hates me. I torpedoed his entire legislative agenda last year. Hey, I can’t help it if he’s tragically misguided and writes crappy legislation.

The funny thing is, is they send this guy to come after me about the shooting. I guess they’re trying to unnerve me right off the bat or something. But there’s guys up there who play the game against me far better than this guy does. Maybe Bruno orchestrated it this way. He’s a democrat.

“Mr. Lyman, can you tell us if there are any lingering effects from the shooting?” There’s Donna’s question word for word. She locked herself in my office to watch this. I can’t see her, but I guarantee she’s not breathing right now.

“It was eight months ago.” I say. Babish and the Debevoise lawyer shift slightly. It didn’t take me long to break the don’t answer more than they ask rule, but I’m going to do that with this topic. I’m on television for crying out loud.

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yes.”

“Can you name the lingering effects you have?”

“Yes.”

See, I’m a smart ass.

“Please list them for the committee.” he says dryly.

“Stiffness in my back and left side; occasional shortness of breath; lack of sensation at the bullet wound and surgical incision.”

“Nightmares?” He asks. God I hate this guy.

“Yes.”

“Recurring?”

“If it wasn’t more than one, wouldn’t it just be a nightmare?”

“It was a yes or no question.”

“Oh, it was? Sorry you didn’t specify.”

“Are the nightmares recurring?”

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

“Post-traumatic stress disorder.” Wow. Look at all those flashbulbs.

“What does that mean, in layman’s terms?”

“It means that sudden loud noises or sirens can possibly cause me to relive the shooting in my head.”

“Possibly or probably?”

“Possibly.”

He moves on now to the President and how I joined the campaign. Nothing about mental instability or anything like that. The topic’s done, so it won’t be revisited by anyone else. And I’m a little confused. I chance a glance over at Cliff. He’s not meeting my eyes. I’m wondering if he disagreed with that line of questioning or not. I’m wondering why that’s all that there was. Why didn’t they get further into that? Of course it’s going to be all over Meet the Press and stuff like that, but why didn’t this committee get further into that?

Something’s going on.

Ryerson finishes. Arkin starts. This guy is like the president and founder of the I-hate-Josh fan club. He’s a conservative republican from the south. I should have brought Ainsley Hayes instead of Babish with me. Babish is tougher, but Ainsley speaks this guy’s language.

“Mr. Lyman,” Arkin starts. He’s kind of snide, too. He’s also kind of greasy looking. This guy didn’t look in a mirror before he went on national television? “Back in October, this committee took the deposition of Donnatella Moss. Can you please state for the record who that is?”

“She’s my senior assistant.”

“And what are some of her duties?”

What.

The.

Fuck?

Cliff is squirming a bit. What the hell is going on?

“She’s my chief researcher; she handles scheduling; interfaces with members of congress and the senate, briefs me on issues, assists in drafting legislation.”

“How long has she worked for you?”

“Objection, relevance.” Finally! I was wondering what the hell I brought these TWO lawyers for!

“She’s the Senior Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff for Strategic Planning and a witness in these hearings. I am perfectly within the scope of this hearing.” Arkin says. Bruno nods his head, but he doesn’t look too happy about it.

Seriously, I think I might throw up.

“How long has she worked for you?” Arkin asks again.

“Since February 1998.”

“After the election, she stayed on as your assistant.”

“Yes.”

“Does she travel with you?”

“Could you be more specific?”

“When you travel when required for your job, does Ms. Moss accompany you?”

“Not always.”

“Often?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, it dawns on me. I look Arkin square in the eye, but what I really want to do is drop my head on the table and bang it a few times. Trust me, I’ll be doing this later, without C-SPAN watching.

“Mr. Lyman, what is your relationship with Ms. Moss?” Arkin asks.

“Asked and answered.” Pipes up Babish.

“That question was not asked. I asked who she was.” Arkin says.

There is no way to stop this. Short of me, you know, losing consciousness or the building catching fire, I cannot stop what’s about to happen.

“The witness will answer the question.” Bruno says. Yeah, because Congress hasn’t been asking themselves this exact question for three years now.

“It’s already been established that Ms. Moss is Mr. Lyman’s assistant.” Babish argues.

“I’ll rephrase the question.” Arkin says. “Mr. Lyman, do you have a personal relationship with your assistant?”

“Yes.”

“And what is the nature of that personal relationship?”

I fucking hate Arkin. I’ll get this guy if it’s the last thing I do.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

More flashbulbs. Get some smiley face stickers, some kamakaze shots and some techno music and we’ve got ourselves a happy hour.

My mother’s going to kill me. 

TBC


	8. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

No sooner am I off the floor than my cell phone rings.

“Hi Leo.” I say as I’m pushing through the crowd.

“Okay, so that wasn’t really the way THAT was supposed to come out.” he says without preamble.

“Yeah.”

“Get with Toby, Sam and CJ when you get back.”

“After I peel Donna off the ceiling.” I say. To which Leo doesn’t respond. “What’s going on?”

“CJ’s been trying to get into your office for a while. She’s locked both doors.” he fesses up. “Seeing as how you’d be coming back and dealing with it, I haven’t done my thing, but...”

“Yeah.”

“Get with the others and let me know what you’re going to do.” He hangs up. No sooner do I snap my phone shut than it rings again and it’s my mother.

“Before you lose your mind, mom,” I say by way of greeting, “you should take a moment to remember what you just saw on t.v. and realize I’m not in the best of moods at the moment.” I get my temper from my mother. It’s important that we remind each other about this from time to time.

“I’m going to drive there to that pissant Arkin’s house, throw some gasoline on it, and light it on fire.” she seethes.

“Okay. Well, that’s probably not the best way to deal with this.”

“How’s Donna?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten back yet. Leo said she locked herself in my office.”

“I tried calling there. She’s not picking up the phone.”

“Of course not, mom. She’s mortified.”

“You know, a phone call wouldn’t have been, like, out of line, Joshua.” she says after a pause.

“Can we not do this now?”

“Fine. Give Donna my best.”

I snap my phone shut and hop in Babish’s car for the short ride over to the White House. It’s only a few blocks, but it feels like forever. He, of course, is pointing out everything I did wrong. I don’t really give a shit about what I did wrong right now. I give a shit that Donna’s locked herself in my office and won’t come out; I give a shit that reporters are going to hound her for a little while to try and stir up a scandal. I seriously don’t think this is going to be damaging to my career. It’s going to be a pain in the ass for a little while, but quite frankly, it’s not like I’m the only guy in Washington sleeping with my assistant, and the difference is I actually love her. She, on the other hand, is going to lose her shit over this. We pull into the White House parking lot, and while Babish is still going on to me, I hop out the car.

As I’m coming through the lobby, one of the interns comes up to me. “Mr. Ziegler wants to see you right away.”

“Tell him I’ll be down there in a few minutes. I have something else to do first.”

“He wanted to see you as soon as you walked in the door.” the intern insists. I stop a second to glare at the intern and they go running off. I can’t believe they do this job for free.

I stop outside my office door and pull my keys out of my pocket as CJ comes running up.

“I’ve been trying to get in there since Ryerson’s bit.” CJ says quickly. “She won’t open the door, and she won’t answer the intercom.”

“Kay.” I say putting the key in the lock. “I’ll be down to see you guys when I’m done.” She nods and walks off. It’s good to have CJ in your corner. She’ll go strap Toby’s ass down to a chair for a little while.

I walk into my office, close the door and lock it again for good measure. She has my chair pulled up in front of the t.v. Commentators are talking about the highlights of my testimony. She’s curled up in my chair, and of course, she’s in tears. I gently push the hair away from her face and she starts to cry harder. I ease myself into the chair with her, and she moves to my lap, sobbing into my chest and again, all I can think of is ways to get Arkin. He did this. He made this amazing woman cry, and I’ll get him for it. I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but it’s going to be ugly for him.

“We can’t do this.” she says crying and waving a hand in between us. Yeah, like I didn’t see this coming.

“It’s too late, Donna. It’s not going to make it go away.”

“What does that have to do with the President having MS anyway?” she demands.

“Nothing. Arkin hates me.” I shrug. She continues to cry in my chest for a while I plot ways to get Arkin. Eventually, her crying subsides and we’re left with the quiet. I’m rubbing her back, and kissing her forehead, and she’s holding onto me tightly. Finally, there’s banging on the door and the door knob is rattling.

“Open the damn door!” Toby barks from the other side. He’s gotten impatient. Donna pushes herself off me and flings open the door. The glare I see her give Toby is like nothing I’ve ever seen from her before. Toby evidently has because he looks a little shocked.

“He’ll be there when he’s done.” she says in a low voice I’ve never heard from her before. It’s quite chilling. I didn’t know she could get that way. Toby nods his head and she slams the door. She looks at me in a huff. She’s incredibly gorgeous right now. It occurs to me that she probably did that to the others more than once over the summer. I mean, Toby caved pretty quickly there, and that was un-Toby-like.

“What?” she demands. I know that tone, too. That tone I have heard from her. I argued with that tone the first time I heard it, and I learned very quickly not to do that, you know, after I retrieved my head from whence she hurled it. I shake my head and hold my hand out to her and she comes back to sit with me in the chair. She sits down and I kiss her.

“I don’t know how it’s going to play out the next few weeks,” I say. “But don’t forget for a single second that I’m completely in love with you.” She nods and leans her forehead against mine. “Nothing they’re going to say is going to change that.”

She smiles weakly, and I know this is eating her up. I know over the next few weeks when we’re getting hounded by reporters that she’s going to question whether or not I love her enough to put up with it all. I know there’s no way to fully convey to her how endearing she is to me and how much I cherish every smile, every touch and every moment she blesses me with her presence.

I know she thinks that deep down nothing is more important to me than politics, but there’s nothing like having a stopped heart for 16 hours to show me that just wasn’t true; coming apart at the seams as she gently holds me together; and taking on Toby with the ease of dealing with an amateur. How can I not treasure this woman above all else?

She rises off my lap and I immediately miss her. She reaches down a hand and tugs me up. She’ll be all right the rest of the day and it’s time to go back to work. I need to meet with the spin team now. They’ll be raring to go to protect one of their own. If I didn’t hate Arkin so much, I might actually pity him right now.

TBC


	9. What We Are

DONNA’S POV

We walk down the corridor from Josh’s office towards Toby’s office. He’s going to be sequestered with them for a while, I‘m sure. Obviously, everyone saw his testimony. The bullpen is quiet and people are staying out of his way. Wise choice, guys. He opens the door to Toby’s office and smiles at. I got another destination in mind myself. Before I hear him close the door, I hear Toby say to him, “Donna scared me,” and hear Josh chuckle as he closed the door.

I smile and continue towards the stairs to the lower level. I think Josh was a little surprised by my treatment of Toby. Toby knew not to mess with me then. I’ve gotten like that with the three of them before when Josh was in the hospital and over the summer. I mostly gave them the access they wanted, but there were times when I could tell that though Josh may not have admitted it me or himself, he really just wasn’t up to it and I had to put my foot down. It happened more often with Toby than with CJ and Sam. One day, after it happened with Toby, I immediately broke down in his office. You think Josh doesn’t know what to do with me when I cry, you should see Toby!

I keep walking down the stairs and finally arrive in the basement. I see Ainsley in her office typing away on her laptop. She gives me a small smile as I walk through the door. I think she’s been expecting me. Josh got screwed today by a conservative republican; Ainsley is a conservative republican. I’m sure she knew I’d be down to vent my extreme frustration.

Ainsley keeps a silver baton in her office that I’ve seen her twirl as she paces and tries to work through an argument in her head. Sometimes she listens to classical music or her beloved Gilbert and Sullivan. She’s got many methods of relaxation. I pick up the baton and with a frustrated scream proceed to beat the hell out of the brick walls.

“Please try beating the radiator, too,” she says calmly. “You might be able to fix it, since maintenance seems completely incapable.”

I stop and look at her, then start laughing, soon I’m crying again and I drop into a chair near her desk. “I’m surprised you didn’t beat me with that baton.”

“Why?”

“Arkin’s a conservative republican; I’m a conservative republican.” Ainsley shrugs.

“You’re not a conservative republican that hates Josh.”

“I’m a conservative republican that loves fighting with Josh Lyman. I get great satisfaction from telling him he’s wrong.”

“Are you a conservative republican that thinks it’s wrong for he and I to be together?” I hedged.

“I’m happy for my two friends.” she smiles. “I don’t know, Donna, maybe if it was anybody else, I’d think differently, but I know you two are meant to be together. He’s a different person when he’s around you. What Arkin did was just plain mean. But I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I’m sure they’re upstairs right now scheduling me out on all the shows.”

“I’m sorry they do that to you.”

“I’m not.” she says. “They don’t do it on anything that they know would be directly against my values. They do it where they know they have my support. And you’re my friends, and I’ll be happy to do it.”

“Thanks, Ainsley.” I smile.

I think that Ainsley really has become a good friend. She’s become something of a confidant. I remember how up in arms the senior staff was that the President wanted to hire her and what a rocky start she got off to, but she’s keeping them on their toes. We work in the White House. I’m a democrat and she’s a republican, and if we ever actually HAD a political conversation, I’m sure we wouldn’t see eye to eye on very much, but she and I have never had a political conversation. We’ve been involved with them together in larger groups, but we both seem to be kindred spirits, who come from small families grounded in strong family values, who were raised to be confident women. We don’t have anything in common politically, but we have a lot of other things in common, so we stick to that. I’m starting to think that CJ’s idea to check out that wine bar is a good one, and when we set a time to go, we’ll bring Ainsley.

There’s definitely something going on between she and Sam, too. I’m not quite sure what it is, but Sam’s famous subtext is there with them.

I remember the night before the Correspondence dinner when Ainsley was arguing with him over the ERA. She really let him have it. I couldn’t decide if Sam wanted to choke or her rip her clothes off and have his way with her right on the table. I didn’t get too far into that thought wise since I was having ten kinds of issues with Josh that night. But I really think they’d be a great couple.

I say thanks to Ainsley and start heading back up to my desk. I should probably call my parents. See, unlike Josh’s mom, my parents knew Josh and I were together. My mother and I are very close, and she’s known all about Josh for a while now. It was pretty hard to hide after the summer. They’re staunch democrats and loyal to the President (though quite frankly, they’re a little pissed over this whole MS thing). My father is active in the local democratic party and they really do like Josh. I’m not 100 percent sure they approve of the whole working together thing, but they like Josh, so I guess they’re willing to overlook that.

I try not to look too closely at the people staring at me as I go by. Some people look surprised and some people look smug, like they knew it was going on all along. It’s disheartening, but I also don’t have the energy to deal with it, so I’m just going to hide behind Josh and let him deal with it.

The next night, Josh got stuck in the Oval, so I headed over to his place alone. There weren’t too many reporters camped outside, so I got in without a problem. I pop open a bottle of wine, change into his clothes, wrap a blanket around me and drop down onto the couch to watch Ainsley on Politically Incorrect. We, of course, are one of the topics. Bill Maher asks Ainsley’s opinion and I almost burst out crying when I hear her answer.

“Well, Bill, quite honestly, I can’t say whether or not it’s something I disapprove of. I know Josh and Donna, and I know he’s a better person when she’s around. I know that she can’t not smile when someone mentions his name. I know they normally put in 14 hour days and are incredibly dedicated to their work. Congressman Arkin can cast ugly accusations, but he can’t say that they don’t work well together; no one on the Hill can. I know he sounds like he swallowed a thesaurus when he talks about her. He’ll figure out how to walk on water if she wanted him to, and she already thinks he can. History’s jammed pack with lovers separated by something stupid. She inspires him and keeps him grounded. And she took care of him while he recovered. Why do we think that two consenting adults can’t be professional and in love? I don’t know. Maybe some people can’t, but they can. You can’t help who you get for in-laws and you can’t help who you fall in love with. I was raised in a family firmly grounded in values and morals, and I’m proud to work with people who are passionate in all areas of their lives.”

I switch off the t.v. I don’t need to see anymore. I don’t want to see anymore. I think I’m blessed to have a supportive family and friends who would go on national television to tell the country I’m not a whore and I’m blessed to be loved by a man who would figure out how to walk on water if I asked him, and I’m astounded that there are people in this world who think he can’t already. 

TBC


	10. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

I hate days like this. It’s days like this that make me truly ashamed to be a man working in this building. I know the President feels the same way because he’s kept himself locked away in the Oval Office and he’s avoiding CJ like the plague. I’m starting to avoid her now, too, but the problem is, she’s been talking to Donna and now I have to deal with it anyway.

We renewed our lease with Qumar and sold them an arsenal of weaponry. CJ has been voicing her extreme displeasure all day. She told Toby to shove it up his ass and she’s been glaring at me and Sam all day. I’m sure that the rational part of her brain, were it to be actually working today, tells her that Toby, Sam and I have absolutely nothing to do with things like that, but she can’t jump up and down on the President and Leo’s head, so she’s taking it out on us, and since I’m a good friend, I’m letting her.

As if CJ preying on my girlfriend about this weapons deal wasn’t enough, I’ve had Amy and Dr. Bartlet up my ass about this whole forced prostitution thing. Don’t they see I’m one of the rare men in this town that does fight for women? I’m a feminist, there’s not many of us around.

So, I’ve been stuck dealing with Amy, and you can imagine what kind of mood that’s put Donna in. I walk into the bullpen and she’s moving around her cubicle. I lean up against the doorway and look at her. I’m not looking for anything in particular, I just thought I’d watch her for a bit.

“You keep standing there, it’s going to cost you $250 an hour.” she says, not looking at me yet.

Did I forget to mention the part of the day where I made her a prostitute? Yeah on a day where we’re selling arms to a country that holds women in no regard at all, I turn my girlfriend into a prostitute for the sake of an argument, which by the way, you’ll be happy to hear that she won anyway.

“$250 an hour? That doesn’t sound like a very expensive prostitute. Are you running some kind of special this week?” She gives me a suitably offended look, which I don’t think she actually is, but smacks me with a file nonetheless. “I’m just saying, baby, if you were a prostitute, I think you’d be an expensive one is all.”

“Is that a compliment?” she asks scrunching up her face the adorable way she does when she’s trying to figure out if I’m being sincere or not.

“Of course.”

She shrugs and goes back to what she was writing in a file. “I’ve been trying to figure out a Sam comment here, but nothing’s coming to me.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Surely there has to be one here somewhere.”

“We’ll keep working on it.”

I smile at her and lean my head against the doorframe. She smiles back and starts putting away the pile of crap I dumped on her desk earlier in the day.

“I’m sorry.” I say as she moves back and forth from her desk to her filing cabinet.

“For what?” I shrug, but she doesn’t see it. She stops and looks at me know. “Josh?”

“For the whole day.” I say softly. “It’s a pretty bad day for the women of Qumar.”

“On the other hand, it’s a better day for prostitutes.” she says with a smile.

“I do what I can.” I smirk back.

“Why on Earth would you say you’re sorry to me?” she asks.

“Someone it this building should apologize to womenkind today.” I say quietly.

She gives me her Joshua-you’re-so-freaking-sweet-look and walks up to me. She runs her hand down my face and pauses long enough for me to kiss her wrist. It’s a moment we don’t have on a normal basis in the bullpen, but God dammit, women on the other side of the world were being beaten and raped and we just gave a shitload of guns to men that are doing it, and as stand here now and look at her, I can’t for the life of me fathom living in a society and looking upon her like she was nothing to me; like she was nothing more than a vessel to create more men. I can’t imagine living in a culture where I didn’t worship her and didn’t cringe when she got a papercut, much less ever raise my hand to her in anger. I can’t imagine anything that she could possibly do that would make me do something as heinous as that. What must it be like to live in a world where someone as amazing as she is, couldn’t show me that she loved me? How could having the love of a woman the caliber of Donna make me less of a man in a country like that? It eludes me.

It’s 4:30 in the afternoon, and she leans in and kisses me. Right there in the bullpen. This is one of those moments where I’m supposed to be the boss and tell her that was unprofessional and if we’re going to work together we can’t do things like that.

Not today.

Today, I’m going to let her kiss me in front of the 30 people that cram into this bullpen every day, God, and anyone else cruising through. Because with that kiss, she’s accepted mankind’s apology for a world gone mad and exonerated at least me for the evil in the world. She’s going to let me take her home and make love to her the way a woman should be made love to without violence and oppression, but with passion and poetry. And if I’m lucky, she’ll tell me she loves me and look upon me like I’m the only person in her world that means anything.

When we’re done, we’ll pop open a bottle of wine, which I’m sure will be white, because that’s what she likes, and try and figure out how we can make fun of Sam for the forced prostitution thing. There’s got to be a joke in there somewhere.

TBC


	11. What We Are

DONNA’S POV

Okay, so can I just bitch to you for a second? I need to convey to someone the truly suck ass day that was today in the world of Josh and Donna. Josh has been weird since just before Christmas. Not like totally and all consuming weird, but there’s something bugging him, he can’t talk about it, it seems, and it’s periodically putting him in a funk that nothing’s getting him out of. I mean, I can distract him, but it doesn’t take long for him to fall back into it.

The day of Leo’s hearing, he was on edge. I mean, everyone was a little uppity because Leo was testifying before Congress and everyone was just worried in general, but Josh was something else. He seemed obsessed with Sam getting him a name and the President kept pulling him aside. So, something was going on with Leo’s hearing. The disappointment in his face when he realized that Sam wasn’t able to get him this mystery name was clearly evident. And he couldn’t talk about it, which I know was eating away at him even more. There’s not many things that downright suck about our relationship, in fact, this might be the only thing, but every now and then, he just can’t tell me what’s bothering him, and we’re painfully reminded of our positions in the world and the things we sacrifice to work where we do.

So, whatever he was trying to orchestrate, didn’t happen. You can imagine what he’s like when he can’t come through for someone he cares about. Josh is the guy that comes through; Josh is the guy that gets it done. Leo and the President didn’t seem mad at him that whatever was supposed to happen didn’t, but the President and Josh seemed pretty disappointed by it. The hearing was abruptly called to an end that day and Josh seemed relieved, but he still couldn’t talk about it.

The whole thing makes no sense to me at the moment, so if you’re confused right now, you’re not the only one.

But this isn’t even the thing. This is just background, I guess, to give you like the full picture of just what kind of day it’s been.

Late this afternoon, freaking Amy calls. She’s got to meet with Josh about the Child Support Enforcement Act. Josh was fully intending on blowing her off, but the President has chosen to care about this the most today (I’m sure that has everything to do with Mrs. Bartlet’s visit to Josh this morning). And, of course, she can only meet with him tonight, and of course Josh has to go because the President is having a baby about it. Nevermind the blizzard that’s on its way, Josh has to meet with freaking Amy.

Over drinks.

I tried not to be that girlfriend, I swear to you, I did. I trust my man. I do. I trust him in everything. I’m confident in his love for me. I know he doesn’t want her. This is all stuff that I know. But, I mean, come on. He’s going out with his ex-girlfriend. Yeah, I know not by choice, but he still is. I know the temptation isn’t there for him, but it is for her. It’s her I don’t trust. She’s going to throw her whorey self on him, and breath on him, and contaminate him, and then he’s going to come back and want to be with because he’ll have just come from her and be all thankful that’s he not with her anymore and with me, but I’m going to have it stuck in my head that he just came from her where she was throwing herself at him, and I’m sure some part of her body came in contact with him and I’ll be all skeeved out.

You see what I mean? Don’t look at me like that, you totally know what I’m saying here.

But this is how my night starts off. You think that I’m set up now to have a bad night; things can’t get much worse. Josh leaves to meet with freaking Amy, and I’m just about to leave when I get a phone call from Cliff! He needs to talk to me right away. It’s urgent I get him in touch with Josh. Oh, don’t worry, it’s not illegal, but meet in a dark corner of Geogetown’s law library so no one sees us. But no, it’s not shady. So, against my better judgment, I go.

So, now we’re both stuck with our exes. Cliff gives me this totally shady, deep throat bit about how desperately he needs to talk to Josh. It’s really important. I’m trying to convey to him just how much trouble I’m about to be in for even speaking to him. I mean, Cliff is pretty high up on Josh’s list of most hated republicans. But the pieces start to fall together when I realize that it was Cliff who got the hearing adjourned and Josh was relieved by that. So, now I’m thinking that Cliff is on the up and up here...sort of. At least as much on the up and up as this little back room thing’s going to be here.

So, what’s worse than just having met with your ex-boyfriend in some little covert meeting? Telling your current boyfriend that you did it without his knowledge. Of course, it wasn’t behind his back so to speak, but you’ll note I didn’t give him a heads up I was going either. I mean, he’s stuck with his ex-skank, but at least I knew about it. So, not only do I have to tell him that I met with Cliff, I have to tell him that he has to too.

Can’t imagine why I’m dreading this.

So, I call him. The good news is that this effectively ends the “meeting” with freaking Amy. I say it like that because in freaking Amy’s eyes it was a meeting or posing as one; in Josh’s it was a waste of time. The bad news...well, I guess that’s all just degrees. To say that he’s displeased with me at the moment is an understatement. I mean, I’m pretty sure whatever Cliff has to talk to him about will justify the subterfuge, otherwise, I’ll hunt Cliff down and step on him like the little dweeb he is. Do people still say dweeb? I’m not sure. Doesn’t matter.

So that’s what Josh is doing now, and I’m home. I mean home as in my apartment. At the end of our conversation, that’s what Josh told me to do. “Go home, Donna,” he says. Now, I know he meant go home to his place because I’m practically living there now, but since he was being such a...unnice guy...about the whole thing, I decided to screw with him and just come to my place. I mean, it’s not like I was the one that called Cliff here. I didn’t call him up and say, “Hey, Josh is out with his ex-skank, let’s go get it on,” or anything like that. I mean, this whole thing wasn’t my idea.

He called my cell, but I didn’t answer it. His voice mail said he had to go back to the White House for a bit to talk to Leo. So now I’m thinking that this has to do with whatever the hell was going on before. So, I’m exhausted, but I’ve got all this negative energy built up. I almost told him to take his jealousy and shove it. I mean, I had the phone in my hand. But surprisingly a voice of reason prevailed and reminded me of how pissed I was that he had to meet with freaking Amy and that it’s really freaking Amy that I’m pissed at and not him.

There’s a knock on my door, and without even opening it, I know it’s him. I mean, it’s not going to be anyone else at this time. So, I open the door and he’s standing there, looking like he’s surprised to find me here, and not at all upset like he was on the phone before. Evidently, the same voice of reason spoke to him.

Thank God.

I mean, can you imagine if it didn’t and this was a thing? Can you just imagine how that would sound?

He walks through the door, and I can tell that he’s about to take me into his arms, which, you know, is a pretty good idea on his part, but I stop him and point towards the bathroom.

“Nope.” I say shaking my head. “Not until you’ve had a decontamination shower.”

“What?” He looks thoroughly confused right now, and as a result, thoroughly cute.

“Joshua, do not even attempt to make me believe that no part of that skank’s body ever came in contact with you.” I say.

His eyebrows shoot up to his snow covered hair. “Baby, are you serious?”

I give him a pointed look and point aggressively towards the shower again. A small smile forms on his face, but he takes his coat off and begins to undress.

“What about you?” he counters.

“Cliff didn’t touch me at all.”

“No. But he got his republican breath on you.”

“Nope. I was across the table from him. I kept a more than respectable distance.”

“Well, I still think you should come in and help me scrub. I mean, how can you be sure a thorough enough job was done? To really put your mind at ease, I think you should be present.”

I pause while I pretend to consider this. I’m not. Come on, sex with Josh in the shower? What the hell do you think spawned the whole idea in the first place? This is shower sex we’re talking about here.

I grab his hand and lead him through the living room towards the bathroom as he sheds clothes. He looks like the weight of the world has been temporarily lifted from his shoulders, and I hope it has. I hope whatever backroom deal Cliff offered, the President accepts. I just want to get this lingering defeated look out of his eyes. 

TBC


	12. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

“Baby, where the hell have you been?”

“I told you I was going out. “

“For an hour?” I mean, what the hell? I’ve been looking for her for, like, ever, for crying out loud. In case you missed it, I get all sorts of uneasy when I can’t find her. Like, it’s okay for her to be somewhere else in the building - well, it’s not, but I pretend like it is - but if I can’t actually find her, it starts to instill unrest.

“Well ... yeah.”

“There's an editorial on sugar subsidies in the International Herald Tribune--make sure Leo gets a copy. Also, make sure we take home a congressional face book.”

“Why?”

“I'm still mixing up Cooper and Hooper.”

“Why?”

“Because Cooper sounds a lot like Hooper. What does it matter? Just--“

“So, you know how I told you I was meeting Casey Reid for drinks tonight?” she interrupts me abruptly.

“Oh, that’s right. Okay. Now your disappearance makes sense.” Light dawns on marble head. “You know, it occurred to me after you left that Casey could be either a boy’s name or a girl’s name.”

“Yeah.” she says. “In this case it’s a boy’s name.”

“Yeah. That thought occurred to me, too. Then I was trying to figure out how the hell I felt about my girlfriend going out for drinks with another guy.”

“Don’t you trust me?” she demands. Oh shit, must backpeddle here, that came out WRONG!

“Of course, I trust you. I’m just saying people would have seen you out for drinks at a posh bar with another man. People will talk.”

“He’s married.”

“Oh even better, Baby. Now the deputy chief of staff’s girlfriend is seen out with a married man at a posh bar without him. That’s not much better.”

“I asked you if you wanted to come.” she says. She’s testy right now.

“I’m not saying I have any problems with it. I’m saying it probably sparked rumors and I don’t like how people will talk about you.” I mean, let’s all remember here how she took the news of rumors about her last time. Of course, that all worked out for the better, but still...

“Well, you can assure them all that there was nothing illicit about it. You can tell them the truth, I got offered a job tonight.”

WHAT?! That effectively shut me up. She got offered a JOB tonight?

“What do you mean?” I think I just squeaked. “You said you were meeting an old friend from college for drinks. You didn’t say you would be at a job interview.”

“It wasn't a job interview, we were meeting for a drink.” she insists. “I didn’t know it was going to be that. I thought we were just meeting for drinks and he sprung that on me.”

“What's the job?” I mean, what the hell? He’s trying to steal her away from me? Who the hell does this guy think he is?

“He has an Internet start-up.” she says. Oh shit, here we go.

“What kind of site?”

“Commentary. He asked me to be Issues Director.”

“Issues Director. “ Shit, she’d be perfect for that. She’s been the gatekeeper to the deputy chief of staff for four years. If anyone knows the hot button issues, it’s Donna. I think my throat’s starting to close up now. Of course she’s not going to work with me forever...well, that’s not true. I assumed she’d work with me forever.

“Yeah.”

“For an Internet start-up.” These guys are a dime a dozen for crying out loud. Northern Virginia/Southern Maryland...well, the Beltway...seems to be like internet start-up central. They’re everywhere around here.

“Dot-coms aren't dying. Just the hype.”  
“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds like the hype's alive and well, too.”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose.” Danger Will Robinson! Danger! This sounds like she actually CONSIDERED working for this guy. The thought of working with someone that’s not me has actually crossed her mind. This is NOT good!

“Yeah.” Yeah, gave me a lot to work with you there, Baby. Don’t try and squelched my rapidly growing paranoia here or anything.

“You can't be thinking about taking a job that may not be around a year from now.” Take that.

“This job may not be around a year from now.” Fuck! That’s a valid point.

“He offered you money?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, all I can offer you is a title bump.” Umm...and sex in my office.

“Like what?”

“Senior Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff for Strategic Planning.”

“That's my title now.”

“Then I can't offer you a title bump. The sugar subsidy editorial and the face book, okay?” I say and walk away back to my office.

Ignore it and it’ll go away. That’s my motto. Okay, okay. I know that’s not going to work. But I need to walk away and collect myself before pursuing this further with her. She seemed a little...distracted by this. I believe her when she says she didn’t see it coming. She hasn’t said a word about not being happy working here. I’d like to think that she would say something to me if she were starting to get unhappy with the White House. Those dot-com companies pay a shitload of money, too. I’ve seen some of those salaries. One person’s salary is like an entire operating budget. It’s nuts. And she’d be perfect for a job like that.

The problem is, she’s really at the top of her pay scale here. Other than the cost of living adjustments, she’s really capped out here. And she does know that, but she bugs the shit out of me for sport for a raise anyway. The only way she can get more is with a promotion. Which she could handle, but she hasn’t seemed interested in that either. I’ve often thought about creating a position for her. Maybe I’ll revisit it and talk to Leo. Like, it would be her same job still, but without the phone and scheduling. She’s always been my chief researcher and she’s the only one I trust to brief me. I don’t even always trust Ed and Larry and they’ve got masters degrees in political science, so what’s THAT tell you?

Before I head back into my office, I stop and turn around to look at her. She’s back to work. She’s moving around slower than she normally does. That whole conversation was stilted on her end and half-hearted. As I watch her now, she looks...directionless. The last time I saw her look like that was the day I hired her...excuse me, the day SHE hired herself. I’ve never known someone like her. I’ve never seen someone take stock and then reinvent themselves the way she did. She grows by leaps and bounds every year. She gains more and more confidence and she gets more and more beautiful. Her inner light gets brighter and brighter. It’s truly amazing to witness.

You have women like Amy who get so wrapped up in themselves as a woman that I think they forget what it actually means to be one. They’re so busy making sure everyone hears them roar that they’ve missed the bus. Then you have women like Donna, CJ, and Dr. Bartlet, who have not only figured it out, but have embraced it. These women, together with my mother, have a strong influence over me. They’ve all got extraordinary stories. And I think of each and every one of them when I’m faced with dealing with legislation that’s women-oriented. I don’t need Amy coming down here every time a bill hits the floor to point out what sucks about it. I quietly watch these four women in my life react to it. Are they happy? Are they pissed? How would I feel if they were in this situation? There aren’t too many men like me in government, but thank God that one of the few there are, sits in the Oval Office every day.

She looks my way and smiles at me. I resist the urge to run over and hug her. I’ll make up for it in spades later, but right now, I think she might misconstrue my intent. Not that I need a reason to hug her. If I could wrap my arms around her, pitch a tent, and let her live there for the rest of our lives, I would. I smile back at her and walk back into my office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

JOSH’S POV

I hang up the phone with a heavy heart. Poor CJ. She gets so attached to her reporters, and now I have to go out and tell her she lost one. And a good one, too. She fights with them every day, but she really does like each and every one of them. I walk out from behind my desk and stop. She’s in the bullpen talking with Donna and Leonard Wallace. Donna spent some time with the reporter’s wife earlier and she looked pretty shaken. It’s a banner night at the White House for her. If she beats feet out of the bullpen now and runs to Casey Reid to fill out an application, I wouldn’t blame her in the slightest.

“Listen ...” I start when I reach them.

“What do you know?” Wallace breaks in.

“Akime Mambo, who's the MaiMai rebel commander, sent word through a crew that was filming in Goma.”

“Oh God ...” CJ breathes quietly.

“Yeah.” I confirm. “He was killed in an ambush. The embassy in Kinshasa is going to get the body.” CJ and Wallace go ashen. I glance over at Donna; she looks like she’s going to be sick. I turn and head back to my office. Quite frankly, I assumed she was behind me. I stop and turn around in the doorway and see that she’s still standing in the middle of the bullpen watching CJ and Wallace deliver to the news to his wife. Past her, I can see the wife collapse into CJ and Wallace’s arms. Donna turns around and looks at me. I cock my head to my office and turn around, she follows me inside.

By the time I turn around, she’s pushing the door shut. She’s lost it before I even have my arms around her. I ease her down to the floor, as I did a couple of months ago, and let her sob in my arms, grieving for a woman she met only a few hours ago. I hate it when she cries. I hate it when she cries, but I send up a prayer of thanks anyway that her heart is so big that she took a stranger into it tonight.

“Donna, take the job.” I say when she settles down. “I can’t stand to see you get so upset by stuff like this. Work for the dot-com company; it’s less emotional.”

She pulls back and looks up at me. “No.” she says shaking her head. “I’m where I want to be.”

She rests her head on my shoulder and I kiss her forehead. For reasons that I can’t really explain, my mind drifts back to the other night when I told her to go home and she went back to her place. I had just assumed that she’d go to my apartment and I was more than a little shocked to find her not there.

“Baby, where’s home?” I ask quietly.

She pauses and answers without picking up her head. “At the moment, home is the floor of the Deputy Chief of Staff’s Office at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Later, it will be... I don’t, are we going to your place or mine?”

I smile. I can’t help it. On a night like this, I’m grinning like a fool because home is with me.

TBC


	13. What We Are

DONNA’S POV

Josh and I are weaving through the aisles of the supermarket. I moved into his place last weekend and was really quite mortified by the lack of food there. I guess for someone who stops at Starbucks in the morning, usually gets lunch from the mess and then orders take-out for dinner, there’s really no need to actually keep any food in the house.

I, on the other hand, have instituted a new rule. Breakfast at home and dinner at home if we can get out of there by 8. Our days have been much shorter since we got together. It’s kind of strange. There’s still the same amount of work, but we’re not there as late anymore. We’re still getting in around 7, but we’re leaving between 7 and 8 most nights now.

Don’t get me wrong here. It’s definitely preferable to staying there until 9 and 10 o’clock after getting in at 7 a.m., but it’s kind of strange. I don’t know. I’m certainly not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Have we gotten to the gravy aisle yet?” he asks impatiently next to me.

“No.”

“But that’s my aisle.”

“Yes, I know. We’re not there yet.” I pull some items off the shelves and check them off my list.

“I think I can handle more than chicken gravy, baby.” he says.

“I don’t really think you can.”

“Why would you think that?” he demands. “I can do things. I can follow instructions.”

“Oh can you?” I challenge. He’s so cute when he’s indignant.

“Yes.”

“Then why were you on lemonlyman.com last night?”

“I was not.”

“I saw you on your laptop and I saw the site open.” I say. “CJ specifically ordered you to stay off there.”

“I haven’t posted a single thing.”

“Well, you’re not allowed on it. If I catch you again, I’m taking your laptop and smacking you upside the head with it. It will hurt. Leave Irmatrude alone.” He mumbles something under his breath about me and Irmatrude both being Nazis, but I leave it alone.

“You know, I don’t really think I should have to be subjected to lip from a Canadian.” he announces.

“That was hardly my fault!”

“I mean, I didn’t know you were Canadian. What else don’t I know about you, I wonder.” he continues. “I should probably check with the DNC to make sure you’re actually a registered democrat because sometimes I wonder and I don’t think I’ve ever actually checked.”

“Knock yourself out.” I say. “And it’s not like that boundary thing could ever not happen to Connecticut or anything.” I mean, God! How unfair was that? I’ve been a good American; I paid my taxes, and voted and went into public service and actually, you know, work for the actual President of the United States, and they went and made me Canadian??

“Well that certainly would be quite a feat on their part.” Josh says. “Considering they’d have to take out Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Vermont and New York before they even GOT to Connecticut.”

I stop and consider that for a second. “Huh. Then that would make the sitting President a Canadian.”

“It’d be quite a coup for Canada.”

“At least I’d be in good company.” I say.

“I want more responsibility than the chicken gravy here.” he announces. And he says *I* switch gears quickly?

“Okay, fine. Go get bread and bring it back. 12 grain bread.”

He looks at me funny and heads off on the bread quest. I have to say, I really like living with Josh. It’s all been so domestic and quite frankly, I always thought we’d be the least domestic people on the planet. Not that we’re incapable of being that way, but I never really thought we had the time to. But like I said, we’ve been leaving early, and that’s been great. Plus, nobody has even questioned us leaving a few hours early. Of course, there’s at least once a week when we’re there at about 1 a.m. I suppose that will change in a few weeks when the campaign gets moving again. We’re scheduled to go to Indiana, California, Oregon, South Carolina and Massachusetts. We’re taking all these trips in, like, two months, too. Plus, Josh has got a summit in Helsinki coming up, too, so I guess there’s going to be some kinks in the plan.

He comes bouncing back, looking quite proud of himself with a loaf of bread. White bread.

“Joshua,” I sigh. “I told you to get 12 grain bread, that’s white bread.”

“I couldn’t find 12 grain bread. I don’t even know what the hell that means. Besides, I like white bread.”

“12 grain is healthier.” I say as he tosses it in the cart. It won’t stay there. I’m switching breads when we get to that aisle. “What happened to ‘I can follow instructions’?”

“You gave me a hard one on purpose I think.”

“You’re right.” I deadpan. “I was specifically trying to trip you up with the bread. However did you figure it out?”

“My superior powers of deduction.” he shoots back.

“You’re awfully snarky today.” I note stopping by the greeting cards. I want to send Mrs. Morello a card. I mean, the Presidential congratulations on your retirement phone call was a pretty good gesture and all, but still, she meant a lot.

“I’m worried about, CJ.” he says quietly.

Ah, I see. “Well, she’s got secret service protection.” I say.

“So did the President.” he counters. I look at him for a minute, square in the eyes. The two year anniversary of Rosslyn is coming up. Last year there was a TON of coverage for it; hopefully this year will be different, but it’s coming, and this stuff with CJ has probably made him start thinking about it. I wrap my hand on the back of his neck and pull him toward me for a hug. If he was uncomfortable with this public display of affection, you certainly wouldn’t know it because his arms come tightly around me and he breathes in deeply. I know he doesn’t need any reassuring words, just the knowledge that I’ll be there for him when he needs me; that I’ll be his anchor, just like he’s mine. It’s what we are. 

TBC


	14. What We Are

DONNA’S POV

This has disaster written all over it. We’re driving around southern New York looking for our bed and breakfast. The President gave a speech in New Brunswick in New Jersey and he’s leaving, along with the rest of the senior staff and campaign staff. But Josh and I have somehow been swindled into doing some advance prep for a fundraiser in New York City in a few days. Sometimes I really wonder about the advance staff and the amount of intelligence they have.

“Can I just ask why the speech in New Brunswick wasn’t scheduled the same day as the fundraiser?“ I demand of Josh, who’s driving our rental car. “I mean, wouldn’t that be more efficient use of our time and his time? Give the speech in New Brunswick during the day and then go to the fundraiser at night, then everyone hops back on Air Force One and flies home? Doesn’t that make more sense?”

“I have absolutely no idea what the method to the madness is, baby.” Josh said. “I mean, if we’re supposed to be working with the New York City campaign office, can you explain to me why we’re staying an hour away from New York City?”

“Oh, well, that’s kind of my fault.” I pipe up as he stops at a light. He turns to look at me questioningly. I can see it written all over his face. I better have a damn good reason for this insanity.

I do.

“Well, today’s Friday, and we don’t have to be to the campaign office until Monday morning. So, I asked Leo if we could just stay up here for the weekend instead of flying back down tonight and driving back up on Monday, and he said yes, but the campaign wouldn’t be paying for the hotel for the weekend. So I went on line and found a really adorable bed and breakfast here. And there’s a town with all these shops and a farmer’s market, and this town even has a drive in. So, I thought we could have a nice weekend, just you and me, with absolutely no chance at all of being called into work.”

I watch his face soften and then the light turns green. He takes my hand as he starts to drive. He liked my answer.

“Oh, baby, look!” he calls out making an abrupt turn. “A winery.”

“Do you know the Hudson Valley boasts some of the country’s best wine?” I start spouting. “In fact, Brotherhood Winery, America’s oldest winery, is here in the Hudson Valley. And Brotherhood Winery has makes the only New York wine on the Presidential wine list.”

“I didn’t know any of that.” he confesses. “In fact, I wasn’t even aware there was an official Presidential wine list.”

“There is.” I nod. “Is that where we’re going?”

“No. This sign said Applewood Winery.”

He turns down a long dirt road where we pass an apple orchard and come upon a little farm and a small winery. The whole thing is very quaint.

“Josh, this probably isn’t the best idea.”

“Are you kidding me?” he demands. “This’ll be fun! We’ve never been to a wine tasting, and we like wine.”

“Yeah, but you like red; I like white; and you have a crappy tolerance.”

“At least you didn’t say sensitive system.” he mumbles. “Come on. I’ll try white, if you try red. Let’s do something different.”

I’m apprehensive, but take his hand and we walk up to the tasting room. It’s very cute inside. It’s small, and there’s a long tasting bar. There’s photos of different famous wineries on the wall and Ray Charles is playing through the speakers. I’m kind of surprised by that. I was expecting classical music.

A short woman with brown hair pokes her head out of a back room and smiles at us. “Welcome to Applewood. I’m Stacey.” She comes over and pulls two small wine glasses out from underneath the bar.

“I’m Donna.” I smile back. She seems harmless enough. “This is Josh.”

“Well, Josh and Donna, have you ever been to a wine tasting before?”

I shake my head, but Josh speaks. “Never. We just consume mass quantities of it.”

I elbow him in the ribs. I can’t believe he just said that! He made us sound like a couple of lushes! But Stacey here laughs. I don’t know if she found that genuinely funny or if she’s starting to flirt with my man. Best keep an eye on this one.

“Well, we’re a small, family-owned winery. We’re a lot more laid back than some of the larger ones. I’ll take you through our wine list. Don’t be afraid to spit something out if you don’t like it. Everyone’s palette is different. Myself, I go through phases of what I drink. Sometimes I’ll drink only white for months, and then I’ll get on a red kick and not touch white for months. You’re tastes are always changing; that’s one of the beauties of wine. What we’re going to do is start with the whites and the dryer ones and then work our way down the list through reds.”

Josh and I just nod our heads. Stacey here seems to have a whole thing going here. She’s got some kind of wine mojo, so I’m just going with the flow. She pulls out the first bottle and pours a small amount in both our glasses.

“This is a seyval chardonnay. Sixty percent seyval grape, 40 percent chardonnay, it’s aged in steel. It’s very crisp and very dry. It pairs well with fish. The first thing you want to do is hold it up to the light and check out the color. These are all young wines, so they’re going to be lighter than vintages. Then you want to take a sniff.” She’s got a glass herself and she’s holding it up to her nose. I put my nose up to the glass and inhale.

I can’t smell shit.

Hmm. I’m a little discouraged by this. Shouldn’t I smell something. I hazard a glance over at Josh. He doesn’t look like he can smell anything either. We both look over at Stacey to reveal the dark secret of the scent of this wine.

“It’s okay if you can’t smell anything. Sometimes you can’t. Swirl your glass around a bit and get the oxygen flowing into it and smell again.”

I do as instructed and put the glass back up to my nose. Damn if I don’t smell fruit. What fruit I have no clue, but definitely fruit.

“It’s good to swirl periodically when you’re drinking a glass of wine. You want to open it up and get it breathing. It really brings out the flavor and scent.”

“Are we ready to drink this yet?” Josh asks impatiently. I roll my eyes but Stacey smiles.

“Don’t you want to check out the legs?”

“It’s got legs?” he asks with a frown and a curious glance at his glass.

She nods. “Give it a swirl again and look at the side of the glass. See how the wine sticks to the side of the glass and falls down the side?” We both nod diligently. “Those are called the wine’s legs. In France, they call them tears. People have different opinions on what that means. One theory is that it’s indicative of the wine’s age, the slower the legs fall, the older the wine; another is that it’s indicative of the wine’s tannins.”

“What do YOU think it is?” Josh asks her smiling. What the hell? He’s smiling at her? My opinion of little Stacey here is quickly changing.

“I think it’s just physics at work.” she shrugs. “Wine is a mixture of alcohol and water, the alcohol has a faster evaporation rate and a lower surface tension than water, effectively forcing the alcohol to evaporate at a faster rate. This dynamic allows the water's surface tension and concentration to increase, pushing the legs up the glass until the surface tension pushes the water into beads. Finally, gravity wins the battle and forces the liquid to tear down the glass in a defeated streak.”  
Okay. She can’t be all that bad. I mean, that was quite the little lesson she just gave us there. I look over at Josh who looks thoroughly confused.

“Can I just drink it now?” he demands.

“Yes.” she laughs. Now you can drink it.

We both throw our wine back. It’s dry, but it’s nice. And she’s right, wouldn’t you know, it’s crisp.

“This next one is the same blend you just drank.” she says pouring us another white. “It’s 60 percent seyval, 40 percent chardonnay, it’s a reserve. It’s aged in American oak, which gives it a totally different taste than the one you just tried. It’s got a more buttery flavor. This one I pair with my Thanksgiving dinner, since Thanksgiving and pretty much nothing but butter anyway.”

We pick up our glasses and look expectantly at her.

She laughs. “We don’t have to go through all that again. Go ahead and throw it down.” We do and damned if it doesn’t taste completely different. Who would have thought that changing what a wine is aged in changes the taste this much? This wine business is pretty complicated stuff. I mean, there’s physics involved, for crying out loud!

She pulls out another bottle of white and pours some in our glasses. “This next one is made with the cayuga grape.”

“Resist the urge, Joshua.” I order immediately.

“What? I’m just standing here.”

“You weren’t going to grunt ‘cayuga’ like some crazed jungle man?” I demand.

“Uhh...”

“That’s what I thought.” We turn our attention back to Stacey who’s eyeing us a little differently now. I consider explaining to her that we have a dialect with which she’s sure to not be familiar with, but don’t bother.

“It’s a nice light, sipping wine.” she continues. “If you like pinot grigio, you’ll like this.”

Well, we’ll just see about that. I take a sip. Damn, it’s good. This stuff’s coming home with me!

“It’s my favorite white we have.” she nods to me. She must have been able to read my expression. Hmm...Stacey seems to be pretty good at this. I wonder how she’d be compared to that chic from Sideways.

She rinses our glasses, offers us some crackers and brings out a bottle of red wine. And introduces it. “This is our first vintage. It’s 47 percent Merlot; 47 percent cabernet franc, and 6 percent pinot noir. It’s what they call a Bordeaux blend. It’s a 2004 vintage.”

Josh throws it back and I can tell he likes it. I swirl it a little bit and debate asking her the question rolling around in my mind. It’s something I’ve always wondered about but never researched on my own, and in the circles that Josh and I have to move in...well, you wouldn’t ask it there. Screw it, I’m going to ask her. I mean, if you can’t ask it here, where can you?

“What’s all the hype around vintage?” I ask. Josh nearly spits out his wine. He obviously can’t believe I’m asking her something. Josh just assumes I know everything. I would have looked this up if I thought we’d be doing something like this.

“The wine maker, when making a vintage, puts the year on the bottle. It’s the year the grapes were harvested. It’s supposed to help you decide whether that was a good growing season or a bad growing season. You look at the region the winery’s in, the year on the bottle and make a determination on what the season was like. Was it too dry? Was it to wet? Was it just right? Serious wine drinkers know this off the top of their heads. Some will carry vintage charts with them, so when they’re out a restaurants and wherever, they can find out.”

“You don’t seem too impressed.” Josh notes.

Stacey looks a little surprised. “You’re right. My opinion on vintages is definitely in the minority. How did you know that?”

“It’s my job to read people.” he shrugs. Well, THAT’S putting it simply. “What’s your opinion on vintages?”

“Okay. Say you’re out to dinner at a real nice restaurant, you’re out with some friends and you order a 1996 Chateau Pavie, you’ve read about it, it’s a good bottle of wine. The waiter comes back and says they’re out of the 1995, do you want the 1997? This is where the more serious wine drinkers start to freak out and pull out those vintage charts and all that. You don’t want to screw this up. You originally ordered a $300 bottle of wine. The 1997 is only about a hundred bucks, there’s a reason. What do you do? Do you settle for the 97 or not? Serious wine drinkers won’t. 97 wasn’t as good of a year. My opinion on that? Wine makers surprise us all the time. The whole point of wine is that it changes in the bottle. Maybe the wine maker’s blend was conducive to grapes grown during a dry season. Screw it. Pop the cork and let’s party.”

Yeah, okay. Stacey’s cool. It’s too bad she doesn’t live closer to us. I’m thinking she and I would be friends. She takes us through a few more reds and some desert wines. Josh is smiling a lot. We’ve probably had the equivalent of three glasses of wine, which were drank quickly. Stacey’s telling us about the area; how to get to our B&B how to get over to the drive in; when’s the best time to make the drive into the city. She apologizes that she can’t ship to us, but she says the government’s dragging it’s feet on the new law letting smaller wineries ship outside their state. Josh promises to get right on that for her. She looks at him strangely but bids us farewell. We leave with two cases of wine.

I’m driving now. Josh seems to be smiling a lot. After a few minutes, we find out B&B. We get our bags out of the car and Josh grabs two bottles of wine. “We should go check out that drive in.” he announces. “She said it plays all recent stuff.”

“I’ve never been to a drive in.” I confess.

“My mother said she used to go to one all the time growing up. She called it the passion pit.” he says.

I laugh as we climb the stairs to the front door of the old farmhouse looking bed and breakfast. “You just want to have sex in the car.” I laugh.

“What’s so bad about that?” he demands.

“Nothing. But we can save the 20 bucks and just go over and have sex in the car.”

“But then we wouldn’t have the drive in experience.”

I look over at him skeptically. He’s all into the idea. Me? I see John Travolta singing on a swing. He’s got his puppy dog face on, which means I’m going to the drive in. It will be fun to do. It looks like it’s a weekend of firsts for us. The wine tasting, and now the drive in.

Once inside our room, he grabs me and pulls me close. “This was a great idea.” he whispers sucking on my ear lobe. “I’m so glad you thought of it.”

“Me too.” I sigh. He’s doing things to my neck that I didn’t know could be done to my neck before he got his lips on them. In fact, I don’t know if it’s because I love him so much or not, but I, quite frankly, didn’t know my body could feel most of what it does when I’m with him. I’ve had my share of lovers in my time, some were good, one I even thought was great. Josh doesn’t fall into any of those categories; Josh hits it out of the park. He picks me up and carries me to the bed and we tumble down onto it together. It didn’t take me long to figure out why Amy and Mandy were reluctant to give this man up. He takes my shirt and bra off and moves to my collarbone, then my breasts. He whispers he loves me and I know I’m not going to have to fight too hard to keep him. I find it hard to believe he’s said those words to anyone else. I drop a kiss behind his ear and giggle as his body shudders above me.

“Someone’s not playing fair.” he mumbles as I work his shirt over head and his pants quickly follow.

“I’m just reacquainting myself with the cool things I can do to your body.” I say coyly.

“Baby, that isn’t remotely the coolest thing you can do to my body.” he chuckles.

“Really?” I say rolling us over and perching myself on top of him. “I think I should find the rest.” 

TBC


	15. What We Are

DONNA’S POV

He’s been up for a little while now. I can hear him moving around the kitchen. It’s 4 a.m. and the nightmare woke him up about an hour ago. He stayed in bed for a little while before quietly getting up and going into the kitchen. When I stayed with him the summer he was recovering, I used to crawl into bed with him when he’d have a nightmare, which was a few times a week. He told me to go back to sleep when he realized he woke me up, but I couldn’t.

I’m not surprised this happened. CJ’s secret service agent was shot and killed tonight when he walked into the middle of an armed robbery, plus the anniversary of Rosslyn is in a few days. I’ve kind of been expecting this.

He’s handling the nightmares different than he used to, which I guess is a good thing. They use to be practically debilitating, but now it seems that he’s just adjusting to it as a bad dream. I used to be the one to make him feel better, now he’s in the kitchen by himself.

You know what? Screw it. I’m going out there. I roll out of bed and shuffle into the kitchen. He’s sitting at the table with his head in his hands. God, he’s breaking my heart right now. I walk over and lean up against the counter. I’m near, but I’m not right on top of him. I don’t really know what he wants from me right now. I’m not sure my being in here is good.

“It used to be we got IN bed when this happened.” I say softly.

He lifts his head up and smiles. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay.” I say. I move to the table and start to pull out a chair, but he sits back and holds out a hand to me, so I move to his lap instead. I straddle him and he wraps his arms around me and buries his head in my chest takes a deep breath, letting it out again. “Is it as horrible as it used to be?” He shrugs against me. He goes from leaning his cheek against my chest, to leaning his forehead against me. I run both hands gently through his hair and wait for his next move. I don’t want to push him.

He looks up at me and his eyes hold nothing but pain. I can feel my eyes fill up with tears and I lean my forehead against him, damning myself for being weak when he needs my strength.

“You’re going to cry NOW?” he laughs. “You’ve never cried before.”

“I never cried in front of YOU before.” I correct. “Before you woke up from surgery I did quite a bit of crying and after that.”

“You know, there’s not much I remember about that day. I remember that I had never been so happy that you weren’t by my side that night. I remember lying there and thinking that you’d freak out if you saw me. I don’t know if that’s a real memory or a dream memory.” he says quietly. I can feel the tears sliding down my cheek. I note that somewhere in that diatribe one of my hands fell down to rest over his heart, which the other one continued to run through his hair.

“And I remember being so pissed at you for telling me that day that you didn’t need me that night and I didn’t have to go. I remember thinking, he gives me the night off and look what happens. Clearly, he does constantly need me by his side.”

“Clearly, I do.” he agrees.

“That’s a really memory, too.” I say playfully leaning. “I was very mad at you for telling me you didn’t need me.”

“You were there when I needed you.” he says softly.

“No.” I reply shaking my head. “Not when you needed me the most.”

But he’s nodding his head vigorously. “Baby, the only person I needed lying on the pavement was a surgeon. I needed YOU to comfort me when I woke up; I needed YOU to push me to get better; and I needed YOU at Christmas to point out what I couldn’t see right in front of my face. And I need you right now.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“You’re doing it.” he says. The pain has left his eyes and it’s been replaced by sadness.

“I needed you, too.” I confess softly. “I needed you to wake up and ask for me, like you did; I needed you to get better so you could continue to be my teacher; I needed you to let me love you the only way I could think of at the time. And I need you now, too.” Some of the sadness has left his eyes and he stretches up to kiss me.

He stands up, with me still straddled around his waste, and moves us back to the bedroom. He lays me down and stretches out next to me. Before he has the chance to reach for me, I reach for him, and he lays his head on my chest. This time I think he needs the comfort more than me. We’re not going to go back to sleep, and we’re more than likely not going to make love either. We’re just going to lay here together and be.

I run my fingers through his hair as he listens to my heartbeat. In moments like this, when I’m faced with his mortality, it’s usually me hellbent on listening to his heartbeat. But I long ago discovered that listening to my heartbeat and the sound of my even breathing would calm him down after a nightmare. He’d match his breathing to mine and listen to my steady heartbeat and eventually drift back off to sleep. I think that’s unlikely to happen tonight because there’s so much more for him to think about. It used to be that he only had to think about getting better and returning to work. Now, he’s got the memory of the shooting, work, reelection, and whatever else zooms through his mind in any given minute.

I often think Josh should be studied. Once he walks out the door of this apartment in the morning, he is the essence of perpetual motion. He puts out 100 percent of his energy every day. He has to. There’s no such thing as zero to 60 in the White House. You start out your day doing at least 80. If you’re not going 80 when you walk into the bullpen, you’re never going to make it through the day. And if you work directly for Josh, and you’re not made of kinetic energy, head on over to communications or the East Wing because you’re useless to us.

Mmm...not really sure what has possessed me to bring the physics here. But you see what I’m saying.

Josh was obsessed with physics during his recovery. I have absolutely no idea why. I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t bringing him work to do; and it wasn’t like he wasn’t taking conference calls from his apartment. What he needed to get wrapped up in physics for is completely beyond me. Leo once jokingly asked him how that bullet didn’t kill him. Sometimes I wonder if that’s what they physics was for. Sometimes I wonder if he was trying to figure out how it really was that the bullet didn’t kill him, and maybe he thought the answer was more a question of science than a question of theology.

Science would give him an answer; the angle of entry, the distance the bullet traveled, the rate of blood loss and all that. THAT would give Josh a concrete answer. That, I think, is what he was looking for then. Now, as we wakes up two years later, he’s left only with the why and the theology. And you can’t do that to Josh. Josh is a man of numbers, and statistics, and cold, hard math. Josh is not the there must be some big secret as to why I lived and what I’m supposed to do with this second chance kind of guy.

He is NOT a religious man. He was raised Jewish, but he stopped attending Temple when he moved to Washington. In fact, since I’ve known him, the only time he’s even set foot in a Temple was when his father died. I don’t know when he lost his faith, but it’s been gone since I’ve known him and it’s not a question that comes up, unless it’s a political question, like a fight with Mary Marsh or a debate with Toby.

I wouldn’t say that I was particularly religious myself, but I do believe in fate and destiny. I do believe that everything happens for a reason. If you ask me if I was destined to spend my life with Josh, I will tell you unequivocally yes. My soul and his soul keep meeting up life after life. Josh, on the other hand, wouldn’t even engage in the conversation with you.

I wonder if that’s the way he was in our previous life? I wonder if those details change? Hmm? That would be interesting to discover.

He shifts his position and moves up to lay his head on the pillow next to mine and rest his chin on my shoulder. I go from running my fingers through his hair to running them up and down his back and he pulls me tightly against him. The first rays of the morning light come streaming through the window. I look down to see where the light hits and am amused. The first ray of light streams through the room, over Josh’s shoulder and hits his hand in the exact spot where a wedding band would be.

If that’s not fate, destiny, theology, a sign, I just don’t know what is. 

TBC


	16. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

Donna’s pissed at me. I mean she’s pretty pissed at me. In my defense, it’s not actually MY fault we missed the motorcade and it’s taken us about 15 hours to get the hell out of Indiana and we’re on coach on US Air right now instead of Air Force One. Well, actually, Air Force One has been back in Washington DC for a few hours now, so really it’s instead of home in our bed.

I really blame Toby for this, but if I say it out loud...well, let’s just say he’s not in the mood to hear that. He’s the one that has to stay so far away from the President when he gives a speech. We WERE heading back when Donna came out.

I guess I’ve been a little high maintenance today. She’s been one step ahead of me all day. I really should have just shut the hell up and let her do her thing, but to say I was pissed about missing the motorcade would be an understatement. Toby and I have been bickering all day, and I really did think she was going to smack me in the bar. I tried to get her to go up to the room and take a nap or something, but she was hell bent to write those letters to the parents of the kids killed in the bombing today. I think really she just wanted to feel like she was getting something accomplished.

See, I think she was pissed on behalf of her all mid-westerners. She’s from Wisconsin where there’s a ton of farmers and Toby and I really just blew off Cathy earlier. Let me just state though, that we are NOT going to win Indiana and we were right about that. But Donna’s right. Toby and I have been talking about the campaign all day and we should have been listening closer to Cathy. In my defense, we were actually campaigning today, so I don’t think it was totally unreasonable that we were talking about the campaign, but I’m sure as hell NOT going to bring that little point up to Donna. I don’t want to sleep on the couch tonight, I want to curl up with her in our nice big bed.

Luckily, she’s not as pissed at me as she’s letting on because she’s stretched across the plane seats and sleeping on me. She doesn’t look remotely comfortable right now, but I guess she’s just that exhausted that she can sleep like this. Me, I have trouble sleeping on Air Force One, so it’s not likely I’m going to sleep in the coach section of a commercial flight. I tell you though, I was tempted to say screw it and book first class just because I thought she deserved it after the day we’ve had and the way I’ve been all day, plus she’s had to deal with Toby, too. The two of us losing our shit on the side of the road alone should have qualified her for sainthood today. Maybe I’ll ask the President to put in a good word with the Pope for her. Of course, I think she has to actually be Catholic for that, and dead for a couple hundred years. I’m not sure. I’m Jewish...or Presbyterian according to Toby.

I suppose it’s possible that I tend to get a little tunnel visioned and maybe a little easily excitable when it comes to the campaign at the moment. Everybody’s walking around like we already won and it’s all in the bag. I disagree. I think it’s going to be a very close election and that scares me.

“I do want to win.” Toby says from across the aisle. “But I don’t see why we can’t beat him at the same time.”

I sigh and look over at him. I’m just about to speak when the sleeping form on me pipes in. “If you engage in this conversation right now, Joshua, I will ensure that you have plenty of time to finish it while you’re sleeping on Toby’s couch tonight.”

I raise my eyebrows at Toby and then look down at Donna. “I thought you were asleep.” I say kissing her forehead.

“Not technically.” she mumbles.

“I have plenty to say on the topic, Toby, but I choose to listen to Donna.”

“You should listen to Donna more often.” Toby says. “You probably wouldn’t get into half of the messes you do.”

“What’s the matter?” I ask her. “You can’t get comfortable?”

“I don’t have my blanket.” she sighs.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Toby demands.

“My blanket.” she says. “I have a very warm and cozy blanket on Air Force One. It’s sitting on there right now. Josh bought it for me the first time we ever went on Air Force One and it’s in the compartment above our seats right now all warm and cozy and it was waiting for me to come back to it today, and now I’m stuck with this scratchy blue thing.”

“You bought her a blanket?” Toby asks me. Clearly he’s not as impressed as Donna was at the time. You should have seen her face. She about cried.

“Two.” I correct.

“Two?”

“What?” Donna asks picking up her head. “I only know of one.”

“There’s two Air Force Ones.” I say. “I didn’t know that then. After that trip, I found that out. I went and bought another blanket. There’s one on each plane. Did you think the flight crew switched the blankets back and forth?” I smile at her as she considers that.

“I guess I never really thought about it.” she says. “It was just always there.” She smiles at me. And kisses me softly. “You really bought me two blankets?” I nod and drops her head onto my shoulder, smiling still. I smile at her naivete. She knows there are two planes, yet it never occurred to her how that blanket gets back and forth. She just trusts that it’s there waiting for her.

I look over at Toby and I don’t realize I’m still smiling until I see his obvious scowl.

“What?” I demand.

“You bought two blankets for you assistant four years ago?” he asks.

“So?” I shrug.

“I buy flowers for Ginger on her birthday because it’s her birthday, and once I bought her a muffin from the mess because she asked me to.” he says gruffly. “It occurs to me now why you’re such good friends with Sam, you’re both women. I’m starting to think you two, along with CJ and Donna could form a witch’s covan.”

“It’s cold on the plane.” I shrug. Donna’s head has fallen to my lap and I know now that she’s finally asleep. Thank God. This wasn’t the easiest of days. I’m not an easy person to keep up with. This I know. This I’ve always known. She’s the only one that’s ever been able to do it, and today’s she was actually ahead of me, so what’s THAT tell you.

“We’re in tune to each other’s needs.” I explain. “We’re in love; it’s what we are.”

He looks at me and scoffs, “You’re maniacs, is what you are.” 

TBC


	17. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

Donna’s pissed at me again. You know what I want? I want this campaign to be over, so she’ll smile again, for crying out loud. She was good for a little while after she came back from the seminar today. She was giving me a hard time about it. Then she found out that I was at Stackhouse’s office this morning and the slamming started. I’m not so sure that she’s actually pissed at me, so much as the job I hold and that I will have to work with Amy from time to time. This is my job. I can’t pass off things to other people because they have to do with my ex-girlfriend. Believe you me, if I could, I would.

She comes into my office with a large binder, holding what I think is the report from OMB on making tuition tax deductible and I’m momentarily distracted from her by how large it is. Shit. Toby and I are in it now. My attention is drawn back to her when she holds it about two feet above my desk and lets it drop with an extremely heavy thud. Okay. I can’t take this anymore.

“Close the door.” I instruct. And just to piss me off, she slams it on her way out. She knew damn well that I meant with her on this side of it.

I walk to the door and opening it. She’s standing by her desk, staring at my office, arms crossed, proving my point.

“You know I meant with you on this side of it.” I say. She shrugs and huffs by me, as soon as she’s across the threshold, she slams it again before I even turn around to follow. I sigh. One, two, three, four, five...remember, Josh, you love this woman. Remember you love this woman with the force of a nova and that she’s not pissed at you. I open the door and walk into the office, calmly closing it behind me. She’s standing in the middle of the room and the tension radiating off her fills the office. This is compounded by the fact that she heard Amy tell me she missed me that other night at the Rock the Vote concert. She didn’t hear me yelling at Amy about Stackhouse not dropping out of the debate, no, she hears Amy tell me that she missed me.

I know Amy’s trying to get me back. She knows full well that Donna and I are living together. But it really doesn’t stop her. Amy wants to win. She won’t this time, but it’s not stopping her from trying.

“Donna, I don’t know what you want me to say here.” I confess.

“She wants you back, Josh.” she says and begins to pace. Let me note here, that when Donna and I first met, she didn’t pace when she got agitated. I’m sorry to say that’s something she got that from me. “And she’s exactly the kind of woman you should be with. She’s not stupid. She’s going to keep Stackhouse in until the last possible second so she can keep your attention. Anytime she can find a reason to be near you, she does. Do you know what that’s like? Do you know what it’s like to watch you walk out the door and sit around and wonder if this is the time she’s going to be successful? To just sit there and wait for you to come back to find out whether or not she’s finally convinced you to dump me and be with her? To sit there and wait for my life to crash down around me?”

Okay. You know what? That’s it. I’m not fighting this battle anymore. There is nothing I hate more than fighting with her, and that’s true. I hate fighting with her more than I hate republicans. But I have to now. I will discuss this particular topic with her one last time before it’s forever banned.

“Do YOU know what it’s like Donna? Do you know what it’s like to know that you doubt my love for you? Do you know what it’s like to walk out the door to go to meet her, when she’s the last person I want to deal with on anything, and know that you don’t trust me? You say it’s her you don’t trust, but if that were true, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. How long am I going to be punished for dating her? How long am I going to be punished for this apparent betrayal?”

I can see now that the tension has left her body and she’s now absorbing what I’m saying. It’s impossible not to notice that my words are piercing through her, but in order to stop the insanity of going through this every single time I have to speak to Amy, she has to know what exactly is going on here.

“I really don’t know what else I can possibly say to you.” I say softening my voice now. “I don’t know how to convey in any other way that I love you. I love you, Donna. I don’t know how else to say it. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t want someone like Amy. I want someone like you. No. I don’t want SOMEONE like you. I want you. You make me smile, you make me feel at peace, you make me laugh, you inspire me, and you make me a better person. You always have. What will make you really finally believe me? Marriage? Because I’ll wake up a judge and marry you right now. I have no qualms about dragging a judge out of bed on a Saturday night to make you believe that I want you with me for the rest of my life.”

Oh shit. I’ve made her cry. I should stop now. But I can’t. This is coming out of me now like a runaway train. I’m desperate to make her understand.

“You don’t think I’m afraid that some guy’s going to come along and offer you all the things I can’t? He’s going to come along and give you his undivided attention, like I can’t, and shower you with gifts, and offer you the house and kids that I can’t give you right now because I serve at the pleasure of the President and might for another four freaking years? You’re standing there waiting for our life to begin and I’m desperate because that thought that you might walk away for that is imbedded in the back of my brain. And I’ll be sentenced to a life of power couples and trophy wives.”

Something that I’ve said has caused her to move to me now and she throws herself at me crying. I hug her to me tightly. Every time I hold her, I hold her like I might never get the chance again. Everything I said was true. It came out of me with more passion than I thought I possessed and I’m very tired now. She pulls back and is kissing me all over my face.

“Do you want me to give this up, Donna?” I ask softly. “Because I will. If we win in November, I’ll give this all up and we can move away from here.” I’m surprised to discover that I am actually willing to do that. I’m willing to take any number of the attractive offers I’ve gotten and leave this behind. Who needs to be subjected to televised Congressional hearings and nasty lobbyists?

I’m not sure she heard me because her lips are on mine now and I can feel her tears on my face, or maybe they’re my tears. I’m not really sure. “I love you, Joshua.” she whispers and I’d respond, but for the fact that my tongue is in her mouth and I need it to form coherent words, and I’d rather it doing what it’s doing now. “Say you’ll marry me.”

“I already did.” I remind her. Please tell me she was listening during all that because I really am tired now, and I’m not sure I can repeat it. I’m not even sure of everything I said truthfully.

“The morning after the election.” she says quickly, almost breathlessly. “Win or lose we’ll have the morning off anyway.”

“Kay.” I say kissing her again.

But she pulls away. “You understand I mean married.”

“`Till death do us part.” I nod.

“On a Wednesday morning.”

I turn her around and press her up against the door, kissing her neck.

“November 5th you’ll be Mrs. Joshua Lyman.”

“I should hyphenate.” she says and I pinch her side and she squeals. Hyphenate my ass. I’m a feminist and all and a friend to the working woman, but I’m also a Neanderthal and God dammit, she’s having my name. If she’s having my bank account, she’s also having my name.

“Okay.” she relents when my lips move to her earlobe. “You win.”

Damn straight I win. I win more than at the name thing, too, but I’m guessing she and I can’t handle any more emotion tonight. I pull her away from the door, because if I don’t, I’m going to take her up against it, and open it back up.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.” I say. She nods and walks out to her desk. I turn back to my desk intending to pack up my backpack to take home. We’re not coming in tomorrow and there’s stuff I was going to work on at home. But instead, I pick up my jacket, my keys and turn out the light. 

TBC


	18. What We Are

DONNA’S POV

I just don’t know where to begin. I think I’ve set some kind of new record. Who plans a wedding on Air Force One during a flight to California? We’re on our way out for the debate and Josh announces to the President and the staff at the beginning of the flight that we’re getting married the day after the election at a courthouse to be determined.

Pandemonium ensued. For crying out loud, these people aren’t prepping for the ONE debate the President’s going to have with Ritchie? No. Suddenly, this is what’s important. And that includes the President. I get hauled into his office where he congratulates me and tells me to make sure I find out from Ron Butterfield what has to be done for him and the First Lady to come to the courthouse and be there for it because he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get to see his kids get married.

So I go back to my seat, where I get a visit from Ron. Just so we’re clear here, Ron Butterfield scares the HELL out of me. I’ve never seen the man smile; I’ve never seen the man relaxed. I doubt he’s done either since he was put in charge of the President’s detail. Ron pretty much tells me the manpower that would go into the First Family going to a courthouse for half an hour is ridiculous and they really can’t do it. This is disappointing, but not surprising. Frankly, there’d be more secret service there than actual guests. We were inviting our parents and our close friends. We’re looking at 20 people, tops. This was never going to be a huge wedding.

So not long after Ron leaves, I get summoned back to see the President. This time, the rest of the senior staff is gone and it’s Josh, the President and First Lady. The President is now mad that he can’t go. He’s thinking of rebelling and making Ron do it anyway. Between Josh and I we talk him down from that. Abbey says that since three quarters of the guests work in the building anyway, we should just do it up in the Residence. Josh and I gape at her. The President looks like it’s Christmas morning. Josh and I can’t think of a legitimate argument against it.

So, now we’re getting married the morning after the election. A federal judge will be at the residence to perform the quick ceremony, then we’re all having a huge breakfast, then everyone but me and Josh will go back to the business of running the country. We’re going to take the rest off the week off.

Josh and I are now sitting in our seats somewhere over, I don’t know, Colorado, wondering what the hell happened.

“What in the name of all that’s holy possessed you to tell them that this morning?” I say stunned. He just shakes his head. He seems to be in a strange head space now. He leans his head up against the head rest and looks at me. I do the same.

“What do you want?” he asks softly.

“Just you.” I reply.

“Me too.” he smiles.

“So, then this is fine.”

“Not many people can say they got married in the White House.” he nods. “Anyone in town can say they got married at the courthouse.”

“True.” I smile.

“We got a vacation out of it, too.”

“What the hell are we going to do for five days?”

“Go somewhere?” he shrugs.

“Where? Where haven’t we been?”

“Hawaii.”

“It’ll take us like 14 hours to get to Hawaii and 14 hours to get back, and we’ll be jetlagged for a day.” I point out. Though I’m ecstatic he remembered that I want to go there. “If we’re going to Hawaii we’re going for more than 3 days.”

“It’s November. We can go north and go skiing.” he suggests.

“You’re so cute.” I smile. “You’re really not an outdoorsman, Joshua.” He shrugs in response and looks away. I lace my fingers with his and prop my chin on his shoulder.

“We’re not going to any state we lose. I’m saying that right off the bat.” he announces. I smile and kiss his cheek.

“It’s a six hour flight to London.” I say.

“Eight to Paris.” he replies.

“We’ll still be jetlagged.” I note.

“But we’ll be jetlagged in Paris and we can take those herbs to reset our clocks.”

“If we go to London, we can stay at Lord Marbury’s place.”

“Not a chance in hell, Donnatella.” he nixes. Like I actually thought he’d go for it.

“Paris will be pretty.” I nod.

“And cold.”

“I think all the French wine will keep me warm.” I say.

“And the love. Don’t forget about the love. It’s the city of love.”

“It’s the city of light.” I laugh.

“Not love?” I shake my head and he looks disappointed to hear that. “I thought Paris was for lovers.”

“Virginia is for lovers.”

“Not Paris?”

“No. What about Tuscany?”

“Where’s that?”

“Italy!” I swear to God, sometimes he’s truly amazing.

“Which one’s Italy again? The one that looks like a boot?”

“Josh!” 

“What’s great about Tuscany?”

“For one, it’s in Italy.” I say.

“Well, yeah, I guess it’s got THAT going for it.”

“For two, it’s romantic.”

“Baby, I can give you romance without even leaving the United States.” he says in his husky voice. I have to actually remind myself we’re on Air Force One right now, and jumping him would be frowned upon.

“Yes, you can.” I smile dropping my voice.

“Don’t purr at me.” he orders. “We’re on Air Force One.” I laugh and shiver. He stands up and retrieves my blanket from above us and drapes it over me. It was actually him that made me shiver, but I like this. When he sits back down, I throw some over him.

“I wasn’t cold, baby.” he says.

“I know.” I say innocently. His eyes widen as my hand makes contact very high up on his inner thigh.

“Ah.” he says.

“Yes.”

“Devious woman.”

“Yes.” I breathe. My hand slides further up, but comes to a grinding halt when Sam, CJ, and Toby reenter the cabin.

“Dammit.” I mutter.

“Tell me about it.” he agrees.

“So,” CJ says sitting down in the row facing us, Josh squeaks, but I think only I can hear it. “Where are you going for your honeymoon?”

“Tuscany!” I announce.

“Oh, that’ll be beautiful.” CJ coos. “Cold though.”

“I’m sure our villa will have heat.” I assure.

“I can’t wait to announce this.” CJ says smiling.

“After it happens.” Josh says.

“Josh!” CJ whines. “Why?”

“Because I said so.” he replies evenly. CJ looks at me in the hopes that I’ll come down on her side, but Josh’s tone of voice really left no room for argument.

“My mother used to say that.” CJ huffs and stomps back over to Sam and Toby.

I look back over to Josh and my hand continues it’s wanderings. “You’re not changing my mind.” he says sternly.

“I don’t want to change your mind.” I say softly. I don’t care when they make the announcement. I don’t even care if they ever do. I wasn’t kidding. All I want is Josh. I don’t care about the rest of it. “How much time do we have between when we land and the debate?”

“Couple hours.”

“Okay then.” I slide my hand back to a more respectable location, noting Josh’s disappointment. I pull the blanket back over me and drop my head to his shoulder as he pulls open a briefing binder. My last thoughts are of a romantic Tuscan getaway before I drift off to sleep. 

TBC


	19. What We Are

DONNA’S POV

I stand up from my desk and head towards Josh’s office. He’s been bored to tears all morning. I’ve been trying to find busy work for him, so he stops bugging the shit out of me. I’m just about through the door when a fast-moving CJ busts in and links arms with me.

“I’m stealing your fiancé for the afternoon.” she announces to Josh. Josh’s eyebrows shoot up to his head and he looks over at me. I shake my head at him. I’ve got no idea what the hell is going on right now.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because she’s my friend.” CJ says, as if that covers it.

“It’s election day.” Josh reminds her.

“And there’s nothing to do, and my deputy can brief.” CJ counters.

“Well, she’s also my assistant.” Josh says. “What if I need her to do something?”

“Like what?” CJ demands.

“I don’t know.” he shoots back. “Peel me off the ceiling?” Sex in his office when his head starts to spin is more like it.

“You’re marrying her tomorrow. You’ll get her all to yourself. I’m stealing her today.” CJ announces. “Bite me.”

“Don’t mind me!” Josh calls as CJ yanks me back over to my desk and takes down my coat and picks up my purse. “I just outrank you.”

She sighs dramatically and stomps over to his door, throws him her glare she gives to errant reporters and slams the door on him. She pulls her cell phone out of the pocket of her wool coat and powers it up. She grabs my hand and drags me out of the bullpen, as I do the same. Josh will be calling many times while I’m gone.

We head out of the building where there’s a limo waiting for us. I find this strange because CJ has a car, number one; number two, it’s election day and where the hell are we going?

The car starts to pull away from the building and CJ leans over and pops open a bottle of wine. What the hell is going on?

“Well, we really can’t do a bachelorette party tonight because it’s election day, so we’re doing this?” she says.

“CJ?” I ask tentatively. “Just what the hell is this?” I mean, I actually had a schedule today. Our parents are flying in later and I have to go pick them up at the airport. Well, beyond that errand, I was just waiting to see if I still had a job in January.

“This,” she says with a wave around the window, “is just a little wedding gift from me, Sam and Toby.”

“Are we just going to drive around the city and drink?” I ask. I mean, that’s one way to blow the day.

“No.” she says. “We’re going to Isabella’s where we’re going to find you a dress that’s going to make Joshua pass out when he sees you. Just because you’re not having a huge wedding, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be stunning. They’re clearing the boutique.”

“Oh, CJ, they don’t have to do that.” I mean, wow, here.

“Abbey’s meeting us there when she gets back from New Hampshire. She should meet up with us in about an hour.”

“CJ, I wasn’t really...” I begin to protest, but she cuts me off.

“This is from me, Sam, and Toby.” she says quickly. “This is what we want to do, but well, you don’t want them with you today and we needed to get the hell out of there.” I’m just about to get all emotional when my cell phone rings and it’s Josh.

“Toby just told me what they’re doing.” he announced.

“I know.” I said chocking out tears.

“Get all the crying out of your system before you get back.” he says. “You know how I hate when you cry.”

“If you’ve put me out of a job today, I’ll be crying all over you tonight.” I remind him. He chuckles and we disconnect the call.

“After Isabella’s,” CJ says when I hang up the phone. “We’re going to Piaf’s.”

“CJ!” I exclaim. “No, I really have to draw the line.”

“Abbey’s coming there, too, so we’ll have the whole day to ourselves.”

“This is too much!” I protest.

“Josh Lyman a happy man?” CJ retorts. “No price is too high to pay.” She clinks her glass with me and smiles.

CJ called ahead to Isabella’s, well, obviously because the First Lady was coming, too, but she called ahead with my size and body type because when we got there, there were several women waiting with a selection of ivory gowns. It should be noted that not a single one looked like an actual wedding dress. They were all sleek and gorgeous. If it wasn’t totally tacky to wear a white dress at night, I could wear any number of these dresses to any number of the formal events we have to go to.

We’re not there long before the employees of the salon start freaking out. The secret service comes in and surrounds the room. One of them actually cracks a smile when he sees me in the latest dress offering. Abbey enters the room and practically breaks down into tears when she sees me. She steps up onto the pedestal I’m standing on and hugs me tightly.

CJ’s there with a glass of wine. Abbey looks like she’s about to drain it when she notices the boutique employees in the room. “I met someone outside on the street and dragged him in here.” Abbey announces. CJ and I look at each other. By the look on CJ’s face, this appears to be an alteration to the plan. I look over towards the door and Congressman Skinner walks in.

“Congressman!” I greet warmly. Josh and Matt Skinner have known each other for years.

“We’re in the middle of a dress shop, Donna!” he laughs. He gives me a big hug and then steps back to look at me. “Call me Matt for crying out loud!”

“Okay, Matt.” I laugh.

“Okay. This one’s wrong.” He announces. He sits down on the couch with CJ and the First Lady, absconds with CJ’s glass of wine and says, “What’s next?”

With Matt’s expert help, we find the perfect dress, a full length, ivory, v-neck stain gown, with an empire waist and ruched bodice with flower appliques on the back. It’s stunning and it’s currently being fitted to me now.

“Don’t go nuts with the jewelry.” Matt advises. “Make sure you leave her neck bare and her hair up. Earrings and a bracelet.” He looks at me and smiles. “You’re going to knock him out.” I smile, and I can feel myself blush. All this attention is really starting to make me feel self-conscious. I’m only used to Josh showering me with attention. CJ I can handle, but the First Lady is a bit over the top. Things are supposed to be reversed here.

“So, Jed tells me you two are off to Tuscany.” Abbey say.

“Yes, ma’am.” I say.

“I thought you only had five days though.”

“We’re taking ten now.”

“You got Josh to take ten days off of work?” she gapes at me. Yes, the First Lady is gaping at me in a most unladylike manner in front of strangers. I hope none of them has a camera phone right now. I nod my head to her and she still looks amazed.

“Josh’ll probably agree to just about anything during sex.” Matt says, and now I’m completely mortified. CJ spits her wine out all over the carpet and the First Lady starts cackling. Me? I look in the mirror and I’m blushing from head to toe. Nevermind the fact he’s totally right, but I’d rather not talk about my sex life in front of the First Lady of United States and a republican member of the House of Representatives, even if he is gay and Josh says only a republican to piss him off, not to mention the lady pinning my dress who is trying like hell to be invisible this whole time and the FIVE secret service agents in the room.

“Matt!?” I shriek. CJ and Abbey are practically falling off the couch right now.

“I had a feeling about you two, you know.” Matt says continuing on like he didn’t just say something outrageous. Thank God my cell phone rings and it’s Josh again. I flip it open and put it to my ear.

“Matt just said something incredibly embarrassing to me.” I announce without preamble.

“Matt? Matt who?” he demands. “Who the hell is Matt?”

“Congressman Skinner.”

“What the hell is he doing there?”

“The First Lady saw him on the street and dragged him into the boutique.”

“Well, at least I know you’re definitely getting a nice dress.” he mumbles.

“Joshua!” I shriek into the phone. “I’m mortified! I demand you defend my honor.”

“Kay.”

I toss the phone over to Matt and he puts it up to his ear. “Dude, I’ve got a whole policy initiative I’m going to have Donna pitch to you in bed.” he says by way of greeting. “I didn’t know she could wield that kind of power.” He pauses and I groan, hiding my face in my hands. “Of course I voted already, what the hell’s the matter with you? Did I vote for the President? Are you drunk already? I like you and all, man, but if I have my way, you’re going to be opening the want ads in January. Oh, sorry Mrs. Bartlet, no offense.”

“Oh, none taken, Congressman.” Abbey smiles in her friendly way. Sometimes I wonder if Abbey truly cares whether or not we win.

“Yeah, don’t have time to argue with you now, gotta go, Josh!” he calls before snapping the phone shut. “Well, that’ll give him something to bitch about for a couple of minutes.”

I sigh and run my hand through my hair. God, I want this day to just be over! 

TBC


	20. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

To say I’m a happy man I think would be a massive understatement. I can’t remember the last time I reflected on my life and thought all was right with the world. My President was re-elected; my beautiful wife is curl up by my side as we fly to romantic, but freezing cold, Italy, and for four more years I can smack around Congress. Of course, we’re losing Sam, and that’s certainly depressing. How does somebody accidentally run for Congress anyway? And where does Sam get these mistakes from? He accidentally slept with a prostitute - excuse me, call girl - too. I’m not sure of the logistics of THAT one; Toby seems to think Sam tripped over something.

I seem to have gotten away from myself here. What was I talking about?

Oh, yeah, being happy.

Donna looked like a goddess this morning. I about flung her into the Pierce Bedroom, slammed the door and said to hell with the rest of them. We got married, had breakfast, yaddi, yaddi, yadda. Donna’s parents conned the President and Leo into letting us fly out to Wisconsin for Thanksgiving, and I think I’ll be working a total of five days during the entire month of November. This is unprecedented. Toby’s practically having a stroke.

Donna wouldn’t let me take my lap top on this trip. I’ve got my cell phone, because Leo wouldn’t let me take this trip without it. It feels weird knowing that I’ll be completely cut off from the White House for ten whole days. Donna’s so excited she’s bouncing. I thought I was the only one that bounced when I got excited. Evidently that’s another trait of mine that’s rubbed off on Donna. I’ve been trying to think what traits of Donna’s have rubbed off on me and I’m not coming up with any, which I think is a crock of shit because someone who’s been that big of an influence on me must have rubbed off on me somehow, unless it’s so fine that I don’t even notice it.

Donna’s got quite the trip planned here. She did a ton of research. I’m going to freeze my ass off. But I’d be freezing my ass off in DC now, too, so I might as well do it in romantic Tuscany, right, where I can ply my hot wife with lots of Italian wine. We have two totally different trips planned here. She plans on seeing a lot of the countryside; I plan on seeing a lot of her naked. She doesn’t know my plan yet. I’ve been working out many arguments in my head to keep her happily ensconced in our room for most of the trip. I mean, what kind of honeymoon would this be if there wasn’t a ton of hot sex?

Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m a Neanderthal. And I’ll tell you something else, Donna changed her name. No hyphen. I’m not the only one who will agree to pretty much anything during sex.

I had a bit of a surprise for Donna yesterday. I did talk to Leo about changing her job and he agreed. She’s now going to be Special Assistant to the Chief of Staff and Deputy Chief of Staff. She’ll be mine and Leo’s chief researcher, our main legislative briefer, and she’ll start taking low level meetings. And it’s coming with quite a raise. I was so happy to see the amazed look on her face, that I didn’t even mind that she hugged LEO first when I told her. For crying out loud, it wasn’t Leo’s idea. I mean, he went right along with it, but that was all me. Well, what are you going to do?

“Did you know that the capital of Tuscany is Florence?” Donna asks next to me.

“I did.” What? I really did. She looks at me skeptically.

“It’s chief agricultural product is its wines. It’s got 120 protected regions.”

“It’s also known for its Firoentina steak.” I supply. She looks almost impressed.

“Toby told you that.” she accuses and I just shrug.

“Are we staying in Florence?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’ll be nice.”

“Um...yes.” she says. “It’s the city of art.”

“Not the city of love?”

“There is no official city of love.”

“No, because Paris is the unofficial city of love.” I retort. “It’s touted as the most romantic city in the world, despite your little fact of it being called the city of light.”

“I thought you were okay with going to Tuscany.”

“I am. I’m just saying.” She looks at me like arching a suspicious brow in my direction. It’s true. I’m happy going anywhere as long as I’m going with her. It doesn’t matter to me where she’s getting naked.

I will not pretend I am not a man. Men like to see their wives naked. Often. Ask any man. Fighter of women’s rights or not, they will say that. Ask the President, he’ll tell you the same thing.

Actually, don’t ask the President because I don’t want him answering that question. That would be bad.

She grabs my hand, props her chin on my shoulder, and looks past me out the window. This is a big deal for her. She’s never been out of the country. She’s been just about everywhere IN the country, but she doesn’t make foreign trips with me, so she’s really excited now and her excitement is rubbing off on me. I can’t wait to experience a foreign country with her. 

TBC


	21. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

I am one tired man. Not only have I been dragged all over the Tuscan countryside over the last five days; I’ve consumed an incredible amount of wine because Donna has made us go to every vineyard we come across, and we come across a LOT; but my plan of lots of sex is also been instituted. We’re getting a lot of sleep on this trip, but I’m still pretty drained. Pleasantly drained though; don’t get me wrong.

It’s an interesting switch though. Usually it’s Donna keeping up with me, but this trip is the exact opposite. I thought I moved fast at work, that’s nothing compared to the possessed being my wife’s become. Museums, wineries, ancient towns, more museums, art galleries, famous sights, this has been five jammed packed days. I thought this was vacation. I thought I’d be relaxing. I guess I should have taken her someplace tropical with just a beach. Or a cruise where there really is only so much you can do.

You know what is nice though? Walking around and having no one know who I am. Granted that can easily happen in Podunk, USA, but I rarely get out of DC, and when I do it’s with the President, so I’m surrounded by people who know who I am anyway. But nobody knows me here, and that’s a nice feeling. Though Donna booked this place from work, so I’m thinking the hotel manager might know where we work, which doesn’t necessarily mean he knows what we do.

I haven’t heard from the White House once. I mean, not once. Toby’s been working on the inauguration, so I won’t hear from him until that’s done, but that’ll be after we get back. I don’t know who’s staffing the President, but whoever it is can’t be doing TOO bad of a job because I haven’t heard from them or Leo. We haven’t even heard from our parents. It’s weird to go this long and not have my cell phone ring. I keep checking it to make sure the battery is still charged.

Though I have been watching world news and that’s kind of weird. Watching world news in a foreign country without having the American press’s spin on things is...I don’t know...kind of freaking me out.

We’ve just finished getting dressed when my cell phone actually rings. Donna and I stare at it like it’s just exploded. The caller i.d. is reading a number that makes my heart fall into my stomach. Donna watches as I’m sure all the color has drained from my face. When the White House situation room is calling MY cell phone, something VERY bad is going on.

“Yeah.” I immediately answer, but I don’t let Donna know the number that’s actually calling. I mean, this isn’t Leo’s line or Charlie’s line here. My heart is racing right now. I wonder if she can see it beating through my clothes.

“Josh.” It’s Leo. “Where are you right now?” The tone of his voice is deadly serious.

“Our hotel room in Florence.”

“Good. The hotel is driving you to Aviano. You have five minutes to get out of there. No stops along the way. Leave your cell phone on. We’re tracking it and sending guys to meet you. Call me when you meet up with our guys.”

“Leo...”

“Go, Josh.” he says and ends the call.

“We have to get out of here.” I say to Donna and I’m immediately in motion. Five days away from the White House has done nothing to my reflexes. She sees my face and hears the seriousness in my voice and she’s immediately in motion, too, throwing everything into our two suitcases. I don’t need to tell her that everything we bought here so far is staying behind. She seems to understand that. We’re out of the room in three minutes.

The hotel manager ushers us right through the lobby and into a waiting running car. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I’m sure he now knows exactly who I work for now.

Donna hasn’t said a word since the phone rang. She’s followed me out of the hotel and into the car without saying a single word or asking a single question. That’s almost as unnerving as whatever this situation is we’re in at the moment.

Aviano Air Force Base. I don’t know how long it’s going to take us to get there by car. I don’t know what’s going on right now, but I certainly don’t like the feeling of it. Not when I’m called from the situation room. There are many questions nagging at me right now, but the one that’s standing out the most is...

Why aren’t I going to the embassy?

THAT’S the procedure. It’s get to the closest embassy, not get to the closest military base.

An hour into this ride, and let me tell you, the driver is going EXTREMELY fast, the Italian countryside is whipping past and but for Donna clutching my thigh so hard I’m positive it’ll bruise, she’s done or said nothing else. Maybe it’s because she knows I don’t have any answers, maybe it’s because she’s scared. At least, I think she’s scared. In addition to not speaking, she’s also not making eye contact with me. This is so I can’t see what she’s thinking. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

I mean, it’s not like I’m completely in the dark here. There’s obviously been some sort of threat made to the United States. If I’m not headed to the embassy right now, I can only assume the threats, whatever they may be, have been made to the embassies. But I’m still not sure why it is that I have to haul ass to Aviano, where I will be met with a military escort in route. Why am I being brought in, and why am I being brought in like this? The next thought that occurs to me is what brings my entire world crashing down around me.

Somebody knows I’m here.

Somebody knows the White House Deputy Chief of Staff is not in the United States right now and it’s a race to get to me. This thought doesn’t leave me with warm fuzzy feelings about my popularity. Especially since Donna’s with me. That alone is adding a whole different level to the terror. Whoever’s after me, is not after her. And they’ll more than likely leave her dead on the side of the road if they catch up to us. She’s of no use to them.

When I gave back the NSC card, I mistakenly thought I was declaring my preference to never have this become my reality. Evidently the card should have been handed back with a letter of resignation because here I am anyway.

Out of the front windshield, I can see what turns out to be two American Hum-Vees parked in the road blocking passage. As we get closer, there are a handful of soldiers with what appear to be very large rifles trained on our car. Donna tenses even more next to me, if that was possible, and I draw in my breath. They knew they’d meet up with us here and they’ve obviously got their orders to shoot. My stomach crawls up into my throat.

The driver slams on his brakes in what I mistakenly assume is horror at having eight high powered rifles trained on him. This is obviously where we get out. The car comes screeching to a halt. The Americans don’t move, and neither do Donna and I. They start yelling at the driver in a language I don’t understand. Maybe it’s Italian. If it is, it’s very angry Italian.

I would think that the driver would be diving out of the car right now in fear. I mean, if eight soldiers from another country were currently looking at ME through the cross-hairs of a gun sight, you best be believing I’d be trying to prove that I’m not a threat. But instead, this guy takes out a pistol and takes aim out the window at the American soldiers.

Good Lord, we’ve been with the enemy the whole time.

Two shots are fired through the windshield and the driver’s taken out. Donna has finally opted to make a sound. Her terrified scream will more than likely become forever embedded in my brain. I look over and she’s covered in blood.

TBC


	22. What We Are

LEO’S POV

Well, I have to say that when I took this job I couldn’t really imagine sitting in the situation room looking at a map of Northern Italy with Josh and Donna’s faces up there. I mean, this is pretty surreal here. Fitz and Nancy are in here with me now, along with the usual faces. The doors open and everyone stands as the President enters. He’s already smoking a cigarette. That’s not a good sign.

“Do we have him?” he demands right off the bat.

“Not yet, sir.” I answer. His face falls and I know I’ve just given him an unacceptable answer, but this thing’s like half an hour old here and Josh was in Tuscany. He has to get all the way up to Aviano. They’re not exactly close to each other. “He’s on his way though, and our guys will meet him. We’re tracking him.”

“How can we track him?” the President asks.

“It’s a government issued cell phone. It’s got a GPS locator in it.” Leo explains. “At least his does. I’m not sure if Donna’s does.”

“So we think this is Qumar?” the President asks.

“Yes, sir.” I confirm.

“Seven embassies and kidnapping plot because of Shareef?” he asks incredulously.

“Yes, sir.” I say again.

“So we kill their defense minister and now they want our deputy chief of staff?”

“No, sir.” I say shaking my head. “They only want Josh because they know he’s over there. Once he’s back with us, he’ll be fine.”

“How the hell do they know he’s over there?” the President demands.

“The Washington Post reported that he got married and was taking a honeymoon in Tuscany. It wasn’t any great feat in intelligence gathering, sir.”

“They absolutely CANNOT get Josh.” the President says as if saying it out loud will instantly make it so.

“Sir, I need you to get into a place...”

“DON’T YOU DARE LEO!” he roars at me. I guess he’s not ready to get into that place yet. “They don’t have him yet and until and unless they do, I WILL NOT get into any of your places! He’ll be fine once he gets with our guys anyway.”

“Well, that’s not necessarily true, sir.” Fitz pipes up from where he’s sitting on the phone. God, I hate when he joins a conversation like this. It’s never good.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the man who was supposed to drive them to Aviano was just found shot dead in an alley by the hotel.” Fitz says. I’m sure I’m making what Charlie has come to call my holy-shit-does-it-get-any-worse-than-this-face. The President’s face drains of color and he sits down.

“Okay, well Josh is moving.” I say pointing up to the screens on the wall. “Who the hell is he moving with?”

“I would imagine one of Qumar’s guys.” Fitz replies. He would imagine. One of the greatest minds of the military over there, and he would imagine.

“Okay. So why isn’t necessarily good when he meets up with our guys?” the President asks. “If we’re tracking him, they’ll be getting to him soon. They’re sure to outnumber one guy.”

“Well, that one guy is probably going to be joined by back up shortly.” Fitz says, but turns to me for the rest. Fitz won’t deliver news like this next bit to the President unless I’m, you know, dead.

“Leo?” the President asks me.

I sit down so I’m on the same level as him. “This is a special forces team going to get him.” I say slowly. I want him to absorb each thing I’m saying. “They’re focus is national security. They’ll try to get him back alive, but if it looks like they’re going to be taken out, one of them will aim for Josh. Sir, they’ll shoot him before they let him be taken. If they’ve got him now, it’s a good chance we’re going to lose him.”

The President snaps his eyes up to me and drops his cigarette into the ashtray. “We’re not losing him.” he says with finality. “If I have to mobilize that entire God damn base, we are NOT losing Josh. Get somebody in the air to help the guys on the ground.” he orders and storms out of the room.

I nod to Fitz and look up at the screen where Josh and Donna’s faces look back at me. I can’t lose my son. 

TBC


	23. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

We’re yanked none to gently out of the car by the American soldiers before I’ve even had the chance to confirm that Donna’s all right. We’re shoved into the back seat of one of the Hum-Vees with our suitcases hastily shoved on the floor and the Hum-Vees tear away.

I immediately turn to Donna, who’s hyperventilating now. “Are you hurt?” I demand. She shakes her head no.

“Sir, I’m Private Miller. I’m a medic.” says a young kid on the other side of Donna. “It looks like she got sprayed with the blood from the driver.” He cracks open a field kit and sets to work cleaning her up and helping her get her breathing under control.

“Who the hell WAS that?” I demand.

“We don’t have that information, sir.” a sergeant driving our Hum-Vee says. “Our orders are to bring you in immediately.”

My spinning brain now recalls Leo’s order to call in when I get with our guys. I pull out my cell phone, but the guy next to me immediately puts his hand over it. His fatigues say Morgan and his shoulders say lieutenant.

“It’s a government issue phone.” I say shaking my head and pulling my hand away. “It’s a secure line. It’s what you tracked to find me.”

He looks at me and pulls his hand away. These guys will know exactly who I am. They may not recognize me by face, but they would have been told who they’re bringing in and they would know that I have the diplomatic ranking of a three star general. I imagine they’re taking their orders from the joint chiefs of staff right now, if not the Commander in Chief himself, but they’re not going to totally tangle with me either.

“No one in this car has the clearance you do, sir.” Lieutenant Morgan next to me says.

“I’m aware of that Lieutenant.” I say as I dial a number I had to commit to memory even though I always hoped I’d never call it. It rings once.

“Josh!?” Leo calls on the other end.

“I’m with our guys.” I announce.

“We know. Fitz had it.” I press a palm to my forehead. More things I don’t want to know. I don’t particularly want to know that Admiral Fitzwallace has more than likely been silently waiting on a secure line to Aviano waiting to hear they had me.

“What the fuck is going on?!” I demand before I remember that the leader of the free world may be in the room with him.

“Several of our embassies have been attacked, including our embassy there.” Leo explains. “We had intelligence that said that it was discovered that you were over there and they’re trying to get to you.”

“Who is they exactly?”

“That’s not something I’m telling you right now.” Leo responds. Well, no because I’m on a call that’s being relayed through a few satellites, even though it’s technically supposed to be secure. “You’ll be immediately boarding a military transport back here when you get to Aviano.”

“You’re saying you, Leo...” I begin.

“Her too.” he confirms. Things were about to get ugly if someone were to tell me that Donna would be flying commercial back to the U.S. I look over at her and she’s mostly cleaned up now, her breathing has evened out, but she’s trembling. I grab her hand, but I really don’t think she’s noticed.

“Is this going to be a thing for me there, too?” I ask.

“No.” Leo says. “This was a planned attack, but not around you being over there. That ended up being a bonus for them.”

“Yeah.” I say dryly.

“Look Josh, there’s a medic with you. You might want to consider sedating her.” Leo says.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Leo!?”

“Josh...” he says evenly.

“She needs to be alert, Leo.” I say, hoping he’ll understand what I’m trying to say and I don’t have to actually say it in front of Donna. Translation is: if these mystery terrorists catch up to us, I don’t want her unconscious. She needs to be able to run very fast in the opposite direction. She can’t do that if she’s drugged up. That’s saying they don’t shoot her on sight in the first place.

“Fine.” he says shortly. “Call me again when you’re leaving Aviano.” The line disconnects and I put my arm around Donna. She’s clutching me and I kiss her forehead.

There’s yelling over a radio now and I can now hear a helicopter overhead. Please God say it’s ours, or at worst, a news chopper. The medic to Donna’s left and Lieutenant Morgan to my right scramble around and train their rifles at something behind us. Shots are fired at us and I hear them hit the back of our vehicle. The Hum-Vee in front of us veers off the road and our sergeant driving expertly diverts around it. Morgan and the medic are firing back. There’s a loud boom above us and an explosion behind us. I’m thinking that the helicopter is ours.

Donna falls into my lap and my heart stops. The medic sweeps his hands over her upper body and his hands come back completely clean. “She’s fainted, sir!” he calls back to me.

I nod jerkily and begin to breathe. The only sounds I hear are the engine of the vehicle, the helicopter above us and the pounding of my heart.

The Hum-Vee comes to an abrupt stop and I grab Donna to keep her from falling onto the floor. I see the helicopter land in a field next to us. Who knew Italy was this eventful?

“You’re going with them, sir!” the sergeant calls pointing towards the helicopter. The doors are thrown open. The medic takes Donna over his shoulder and we’re hastily moved into the helicopter. Donna comes to once we’re in the air. If I thought she was confused this whole time, you should see her face now. She looks frantically at me.

“It’s all right.” I say. “A helicopter met us. We’ll be on the base in a few minutes.” She’s taken her trembling position again in my chest. I know that she had just fainted, but I’m wondering if she’s even with it now. How could someone’s eyes be both filled with fear and vacant at the same time? It’s baffling, but I don’t spend too much time on it. I press one hand to my forehead and close my eyes tightly and clutch her tightly to me with the other arm. 

TBC


	24. What We Are

CJ’S POV

I’m pacing the Oval Office. Toby is sitting quietly on a couch. We’re waiting for the President and Leo. CNN’s got the embassy bombings. It certainly didn’t take long. But they called me to tell me that they’re going to be airing soon the White House Deputy Chief of Staff is missing.

MISSING?!?!?

Here I am trying to keep my shit together while Paula Zahn is grilling me about two of my best friend’s current locations. She’s got someone saying that Josh and Donna disappeared from their hotel in Tuscany, a hotel employee was found dead in an alley not too far from the hotel, and freaking al Jazeera’s running a story about a kidnaped American diplomat.

I’m not kidding you, I practically wet my pants.

After giving her the standard schpeal about not commenting on matters of national security and we’ll be briefing shortly on the bombings, yaddi, yaddi, yadda, I slam the phone down and literally RUN to the Oval Office. I don’t think I’ve ever run in the White House before. People were quite stunned to see that, especially since I took out Toby on my way, who promptly decided to follow me. I told him what little I knew, and now we’re waiting here in the Oval Office.

Leo and the President come in and they’re immediately bombarded with variations of “What the fuck, sir?” from me and Toby. I can’t be sure, but I’m pretty sure we used more respectful language than that. The President holds up his hand and we immediately shut up.

“This is not for the press.” the President says pointedly at me. I now know that if they weren’t two of my best friends, this would be one of the situations where I would be left in the dark. Long and short of it, I’ll be standing up on the podium and more than likely lying tonight. “They just left Aviano Air Force base a couple of minutes ago in route back to Dover. They’re not injured. Josh was targeted only because he was over there. We don’t know if they intended to kidnap him or just kill him.”

“Mr. President, who is they?” Toby asks in his deathly quiet voice. I hate that voice. It freaks me out every time.

The President glances at Leo, who nods once, and then the President looks back at us. “Qumar.” the President says simply. The mere mention of that name has sent my blood boiling and everyone in the room knows it. Everyone in here knows my opinion of Qumar and our dealings with Qumar.

“Qumar’s an ally.” Toby says quietly.

“Doesn’t look like it anymore.” I snap out. I didn’t mean for that to be remotely that harsh.

“Why is an ally bombing our embassies and trying to kidnap a highly placed member of our government?” Toby asks.

“Because we assassinated Shareef.” the President says.

Okay. I need to sit down now. I move to the couches and sit down. I just sat down in the presence of the President when he was standing, but I think he’ll afford me this faux pas right now. I think everyone in the room will afford me the moment to absorb that the guns I vocally opposed selling them were more than likely shooting at my friends. The tears are threatening to overflow, but I will them back. I’m a valued member of this administration and I have to look like it. I stand up and face the three men in the room again.

“When are they expected back?” I ask.

“Not until the morning.” the President says. “And, unfortunately, they’ll be debriefed for a while.”

“Can we see them between the time they get off the plane and the time they get debriefed?” I ask. I’m desperate for contact with them.

“No.” the President says shaking his head. “It’ll probably be a full day or so before you get to see them, Claudia Jean.”

Claudia Jean. This is him being more of a father figure now than the President. It’s how he gets through to me and the cold hard truths of this job come front and center. Josh may be one of my best friends, but he’s the Deputy Chief of Staff, someone tried to kidnap him, and that’s all he is at the moment.

I wipe the tears from my eyes. I think I need a drink now. A good, stiff drink. I walk to the mini bar kept in the Oval Office and pour myself a healthy glass of scotch. To my surprise, the President and Toby join me. Looks like we could all take the edge off at the moment. I swirl my liquor a second before I drain the glass. The scotch burns all the way down to my toes.

I can’t imagine what Josh and Donna have just gone through. It must have been pretty terrifying. Not that I would wish any of this to happen to anyone I know, but Josh really has to be the last person who should have gone through this. How much is he supposed to take? How much are they supposed to endure? This was supposed to be the beginning of happily ever after for them, and it starts with a nightmare?

I replace my glass back on the bar cart, nod to Toby and Leo and quietly excuse myself to the President and leave the Oval Office. I’m not sure I was dismissed, and quite frankly, I don’t care. But I need to get out of there and back to my office. Once I get through my office door, I close the door and lock it, drop onto my couch and cry. 

TBC


	25. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

We’re over the Atlantic now and I think I finally breathe a sigh of relief. A big one. Donna has finally stopped trembling. We went right from the helicopter to the transport and took off. I tried to get Donna to change in the bathroom because she’s got some guy’s blood on her, but she refuses to leave my side, or let go of my hand. She’s still not feeling all that safe. In fact, I doubt she will until we’re standing in the White House. She’s been looking out the window, and I’ve been looking at her.

“What would they have done?” she asks suddenly turning to me. It should be noted, this is the most she’s said since Leo called this morning.

“What would who have done?” I ask back. I know exactly what she’s asking, but I needed to stall for a second to formulate an answer. I don’t want to lie to her. She’ll know if I am anyway.

“If our guys didn’t get to us. What would that guy have done to us?” she asks again.

“Well, we know he was meeting up with people.” I say. “So I imagine at that point they would have shot you and taken off with me.” And now I think I’m going to throw up. Thinking the thoughts in my head earlier and saying them out loud, to her no less, are two very different things.

“And done what to you?” she prods.

“Baby...” I sigh. I’m about to tell her that it doesn’t really matter anymore because we’re safe, but she cuts me off.

“Come on, Josh, don’t do that to me.” she says. The coldness in her voice just now startles me. She doesn’t sound like herself right now. In fact, she hasn’t this entire conversation. She’s had a tone to her voice that I can’t say I’ve heard from her before. It sounds almost...impersonal. She sounds detached from me right now.

“Donna, there is no one the United States will negotiate with terrorists to get back.” I say. “No one. They won’t negotiate for me; they won’t negotiate for Leo; they won’t negotiate for any ambassadors or cabinet members; they won’t negotiate for the President.”

“Come on, of course they’ll negotiate for the release of the President.” she says.

“No.” I say. “They won’t. Nor would the President expect them to. There’s a line of succession. If they kept me, Donna, I wouldn’t have expected them to negotiate for me either.”

“So they would have killed you.” she says and I nod. “After they tortured you for a while?”

“Probably.” I say.

She nods and looks back out the window before looking back at me. “Tell me again why we work in that fucking place?” she demands.

Okay. This is going well. She’s obviously having a few issues at the moment, and I’ll just go with the flow here. I can’t blame her. She’s been shot at, terrorized, she’s got some guy’s blood all over her, literally jerked around by the military, we haven’t eaten or slept in about 20 hours now and she’s afraid that if she lets me go, she’ll lose me forever. I guess she’s entitled to become a little bit unhinged. I’m thinking she’s in a bit of shock here.

“Donna,” I say. “we’re safe now.” She looks at me for a long moment. She doesn’t believe me. And as long as I work at the White House, she’ll probably never believe me either.

“Seven of our embassies were bombed, Josh.” she says. “Seven. What have they done that’s warranted that? Who have we screwed over now? What did they do that put your life in danger today? I have a terrorist’s blood all over me. Seven embassies is in retaliation for something, don’t you think?”

Yeah, I do think. I don’t know the answer to that either. But yes, I think she’s right. I absolutely think she’s right. Seven embassies is a lot. We’ve royally pissed off somebody. What also worries me at the moment is she’s referring to the President and Leo, Nancy, Fitz and the rest of the joint chiefs as “they,” not we. Not only does she sound detached from me, but she also sounds like she’s separating herself from the government in general. She stood by the White House 100 percent during the MS hearings, but it doesn’t sound like she’s going to stand by it now.

She has absolutely taken this personally.

“Donna, please go get changed.” I plead.

“I’ll get changed after the President and Leo see what they’ve done to us.” she hisses.

Oh shit.

I read somewhere that that’s the same thing Jackie Kennedy did after JFK was shot. She refused to change her clothes too because she wanted the world to see what they did to her husband.

Pleading with her as her husband isn’t working. “Donnatella,” I snap instead. “take your suitcase, go back to the bathroom and change out of those clothes. Now.” I hold her gaze and my voice is leaving no room for argument. The look in her eyes is clearly defiant, but something changes. She reaches down, grabs her rolling suitcase and storms by me. I sigh and drop my head back against the seat.

There’s really only so far the President and Leo will probably tolerate her current attitude before they consider it just blatant insubordination. Don’t get me wrong. I’m letting her be pissed. I’m not going to try to get her to suppress what she’s feeling. Hell, I’M pissed too. I was the one that was going to be tortured for a while before they finally killed me. They would have killed her quickly. Then again, at that point I probably wouldn’t have really cared what they did to me. If I watched them shoot her I doubt I would have been able to feel anymore anyway.

She can be pissed now, but when we land, we are going to see the President and Leo, and she will have to be respectful.

She comes back and leaves the suitcase next to our seats. She’s changed now into loose fitting draw string cotton pants and a long sleeve tight t-shirt. Her hair’s pulled back in a ponytail, and quite frankly, she looks likes she’s going to go to bed. I don’t care. If she wanted to see the President in her pajamas, that’d be fine with me, just so long as she got that fucking blood off her.

She’s different now. She puts the armrest up between us, curls her legs up underneath herself and leans in to me. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. She starts to cry. I think they’re just tension tears. There’s nobody around us, so I grab her face and kiss her. She responds immediately. When I finally pull away, I look into her tear filled eyes.

“You okay?” I ask. She nods her head and I kiss her softly again. She’s not okay; she’s quite obviously a basketcase, but believe it or not, I’d actually rather deal with this than whatever the hell that was before, because that person was not my Donna.

“We ARE safe now, Donna.” I say with as much confidence as I can muster. She nods her head and lays down in my lap. Stroking her hair, she finally falls asleep.

I wish I could sleep on a plane because I’m dead tired right now, but at the same time, I’m totally wired. I know I’ve got a few hours of interviewing ahead of me too when we land, so I’m not likely to see a bed anytime soon. The events of the day are starting to replay in my head. I’m surprised that I’m able to think of them without totally freaking out. I attribute that to Donna’s presence. I’ve spent more time thinking of her than acknowledging I got shot at today because someone was trying to kidnap me in a foreign country. Oh, I’m sure this will spawn a nightmare, or seven, but I haven’t lost my shit today and that’s something.

I look down at her and inevitably start to think about what could have been today. If that guy’s buddies had caught up to us before the Americans, they would have shot her and left her on the side of the road. Hopefully that’s ALL they would have done to her. My stomach starts to turn at the thought of losing her in such a brutal way.

I told her that I’d give this up for her. If she asks me after all this, I will. I know she doesn’t believe me, but it’s not as important to me. I can easily work in politics and not work in the White House. There’s five days left to our vacation and I’m going to make sure she takes every last one. And probably more, quite frankly. We still have quite a few hellish hours ahead of us, but the absolute second we’re released to go home, I promise you I’m crawling into bed with her, pulling the covers up and we’re staying there for a while. 

TBC


	26. What We Are

DONNA’S POV

Quite honestly, I don’t know how long we’ve been in this bed for. A couple minutes? An hour? A few days? I seem to have lost all concept for time. Not only am I jetlagged, but I’m exhausted from the return trip from hell, followed by the rectal probe of the NSA when we got back, no, not literally, Abbey’s check up, the doctor at Dover injecting me with some sort of antibiotic regimen because I came into contact with a stranger’s blood, and that was him putting it nicely, and the post-game grilling from Leo and the President in the motorcade from Dover to our apartment.

I think I’ve gotten it a little bit more together than I did on the plane. Well for one, I’ve slept a bit since then; for two, no one’s shooting at us anymore. However, we have been temporarily assigned a secret service detail until they’re sure we’re really out of danger.

By we I mean Josh really. This whole thing’s been about him. I don’t know what happened to me on the plane. I really reacted very strangely. I just remember looking over at him and not seeing him; not seeing my husband. All I saw was the Deputy Chief of Staff. I remember thinking that’s the way I had to see him because it’s easier to lose a title than a man. Something strange kicked in when he ordered me to go change. I looked at myself in the mirror of that airplane bathroom and I couldn’t believe I’d looked at him and saw anything other than the man I loved. I couldn’t believe that I was separating myself from him, from what I had obviously started to see as the inevitable.

I know he’s worried about me. I haven’t said much since everything happened. I’ve been too lost in thought to talk. I answered all the questions asked of me at Dover, but I don’t remember saying anything to the President and Leo on the way back. Josh did all the talking then.

I’ve been trying to remember the reason I work at the White House. I seem to have lost it along the way. Why would I pick a job where there were risks like this? Sure. I know why I stayed. That’s easy enough. I stay with Josh. But we’re married now. I’ve got him. I can get a job somewhere else. I could work for Casey or a congressman or anything else. But why did I want to do it in the first place? There must have been a pretty good reason. There must be a reason because I don’t know if I can continue to go there every day now.

There’s an obnoxious pounding on the front door and Josh and I fling up into a sitting position. I don’t even notice I’ve scramble off the bed and into the corner until Josh in is right in front of me.

“It’s okay, baby.” he says softly. “Secret service is out there.”

“Open the God damn door!” Toby bellows from the other side.

“See, it’s just Toby, baby.”

He pulls me to my feet then leaves to go answer the door. I walk to the doorway of the bedroom and watch him open the door. CJ and Toby plow through and CJ attacks him in a hug. Toby comes over and hugs me. This is a strange moment. The last time Toby hugged me was...oh yeah...while Josh was in surgery. I guess after another attack on Josh’s life that warrants a Toby hug. CJ drags Josh over to me and hugs us both tightly. She’s crying now. Sobbing is more like it. Then she steps back and smacks Josh in the head.

“Ow! Shit!” he shouts rubbing his head. On reflex I stand back out of her reach. I can’t be sure in her emotional state that she wouldn’t smack me too.

Toby walks back to the door and picks up a brown paper bag I suppose they brought in with them. “Alcohol.” he announces. “Lots of it.” Josh looks at me and I shrug. Sounds good to me. I don’t mind getting good and shitfaced about now. Toby and Josh move to the kitchen to open the bottles as CJ takes off her coat and looks at me. I realize now that I’m in pajamas, but I’m not compelled to change. I’ve gotten shitfaced with CJ before and spent the night at her place, and Toby...well, I don’t think he particularly cares at the moment. Josh is in pajama pants and a t-shirt, too, and he doesn’t seem to care about his attire in front of our co-workers. Josh and Toby look at me strangely as I follow Josh to the kitchen. They go back to the living room with me trailing behind. Josh and Toby have what appears to be scotch. CJ and I get wine. I don’t think I’d mind the scotch about now, but I take the wine.

“They tell you who was behind it.” Toby asks Josh. Josh nods. “They tell you why?” Toby continues. Josh nods again. I squeeze in next to him where he is on the couch. I’m finding that I don’t like it at the moment if he’s more than, oh, about two feet away from me. He doesn’t mind though. He wraps an arm around me. He’s been doing that a lot.

When I found out about what’s his name...I don’t know, I can’t remember the name of the guy they off’d...I had to grab onto the seat I was sitting in to control myself. The President and Leo told us in the car. They assassinate someone and Josh has to die for it? I mean, this is disgusting. They couldn’t arrest the guy? They couldn’t get him into court? Assassinating a foreign dignitary just seems so...I don’t know...immoral. This isn’t something they could have warned us about BEFORE we left the country? Hey Josh, just a heads up, people in the world are pissed off at us right now, watch your back.

I don’t think had Josh and I been in the United States at the time of the bombings I would have found out about his assassination. I still don’t know how they did it or anything like that. Was he shot? Was he poisoned? I think this was because the President might be feeling a bit guilty about how I got dragged into his war. He better feel guilty. This whole thing is...I don’t know...I can’t really apply a description to it at the moment.

Josh handled it pretty well. He just nodded and didn’t comment. In fact, he STILL hasn’t commented to me on it. He’s probably unsure about his footing there. I mean, just because I know doesn’t necessarily give me license to talk about it. Though it would serve them right if I ran to CNN right now and spilled my guts. I think the American people might have some issues with this. I know my mother would.

“We have food, too!” CJ announces out of nowhere. She stands up and retrieves a bag from away from the door. She looks at me and nods her head towards the kitchen. I shake my head no, but Josh nudges me with his shoulder.

“Go ahead.” he says. “Toby’s in here.” Oh yeah, like Toby’s going to be able to protect him if someone comes bursting through the door right now. It’s not like Toby is going to jump in front of him. It occurs to me that maybe I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Josh nudges me again, and I sigh and get up and follow CJ. The kitchen and the living room are actually open to each other, so I can still see him.

I walk to the butcher block island and CJ’s pulling out a strange array of food. Cheese and crackers, fruit, microwave popcorn, which she immediately busts into and puts in the microwave, potato chips and dip. In the living room, Toby and Josh have dropped their voices. I assume they’re talking about something not meant for my ears. Even though I’ve been put through hell because of my government almost got my husband killed, it seems I’m still not entitled to know much about the reasons that put me there. 

I arch a brow at CJ cracking into the strange spread of food. “I’m sorry, CJ, I missed it. Are we having a Superbowl party here?”

“We didn’t know what anyone wanted to munch on.” she says waving her hand. “I mean, who knows what anyone’s hungry for at one in the morning.” No shit, it’s one in the morning? I look over at the clock on the oven and sure enough, it’s 1:15 a.m. Well, would you look at that.

Hmm...why am I so surprised it’s one in the morning? I don’t care. I’ve got nowhere but my bed with my husband to be tomorrow. Or today. Or...whatever. It’s not really tomorrow until you go to bed. Wait. We did that. I’m so confused right now.

CJ’s taking out plates and bowls to put the food in. It occurs to me that I should help her, since I live here and all, but she waves me off when I move to the cabinets. She’s acting kind of strangely. Is she acting strangely or am I acting strangely? Maybe we’re both acting strangely. She’s kind of, like, motherly right now. Huh. Maybe she’s just as freaked out as I am.

We make our way back to the boys and spread the food out. Josh and Toby dive in. CJ starts picking, too, but I find myself not particularly hungry. Toby mentions something about Will working on the inaugural speech. Wait. What?

“Who the hell is Will?” I ask.

“He’s a speechwriter Sam set me up with to help write the inauguration.” Toby explains.

“How’s THAT going?” I ask a little amazed. I mean, Toby doesn’t accept just anybody’s help. It apparently took him forever to get used to Sam.

“He’s not entirely untalented.” Toby says with a glance down to his glass. Well, that’s about the best compliment this guy can expect from Toby, I suppose.

“So, when are you guys coming back?” CJ asks. I snort. Everyone looks at me. Oops.

“At least a few more days.” Josh says with a wary glance at me. “We had ten days off.”

“CNN was reporting you missing.” CJ says.

“Are you kidding me?” I say loudly. “What happened to responsible journalism?”

“Baby, why don’t you go lay down?” Josh asks me. He’s looking at me like I’m a ticking bomb. “We’re probably going to be up for a little while.”

“I’ll stay here with you.” I say shaking my head. Yeah, like I can get in front of a bullet from the bedroom.

“What if I asked Agent Wallace outside the door to come inside until I go to bed?” he asks. I consider this for a minute. Okay. I guess I can leave him in Agent Wallace’s hands. I nod my head and he helps me up. Toby I notice goes over to the door and I wait until Agent Wallace steps in. Josh walks me back into the bedroom and tucks me in.

“I’ll just be in the living room.” he says kissing my forehead.

“Be careful.” I say. He nods and shuts the light off on his way out.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
JOSH’S POV

Whoa! Donna’s losing it. I’ve just left her in the bedroom and rejoined CJ and Toby in the living room. They’re looking at me strangely.

“What the hell’s going on with her?” Toby asks me quietly. I shrug. I’m not a shrink.

“She’s afraid to let me out of her sight it seems.” I say.

“She doesn’t think the secret service is going to be able to protect you?” CJ asks.

“Apparently not.” I say.

“What does she think she’s going to do?” CJ asks.

“I imagine jump in front of a bullet.” I reply.

“She thinks someone’s just going to pop out and shoot you?” CJ continues.

“It’s not, like, totally out of the realm of possibility.” I shoot back. “It’s happened twice in the last 36 hours, and I’ve actually, you know, been shot before.” CJ and Toby’s eyebrows shoot up to their foreheads then, and I realize I’ve just staunchly defended Donna’s wacky behavior. “I’m sorry.” I sigh. “It’s been a really rough day and a half.”

“It’s all right, Josh.” Toby says.

“You guys should definitely talk...”

“We are.” I assure. Well, we are as soon as I call Stanley tomorrow. I mean, Donna’s clearly gone round the bend. We have a secret service detail outside, she’s still freaking out. “And I didn’t mean that. She’s just been this totally different person since this whole thing started, and I understand, but it’s freaking me out all the same. She hasn’t eaten in 36 hours.”

“Has she slept?” CJ asks.

“Yeah a bit.” I nod. I mean, we were sleeping when they started banging on the door. “Plus, the President and Leo told her about Shareef.” I say.

“What the hell did they do that for?” Toby demands. My eyes snap defensively up to his, but I see that he’s not questioning Donna’s ability to keep a secret, but rather the wisdom of dumping that information on someone who normally doesn’t know that kind of stuff.

“I suppose they thought she deserved to know why she was shot at and almost killed.” I say. I haven’t formed an opinion on this whole situation yet. My rational mind is saying that they must have had good intelligence to do something like this. We’re not really in the habit of assassinating foreign dignitaries. But there’s a small voice in the back of mind screaming in outrage. If I was going to be subjected to watching my wife murdered before I was tortured and murdered, there better have been a DAMN good reason for killing that man. He’s a terrorist. Spare me. So’s the IRA, you don’t see us blowing the hell at of them. Thank you, come again.

Huh. Maybe I have formed an opinion on this situation after all. And I don’t think it would have been too much to ask for a little heads up before I left the country. Or maybe they could have just told me not to leave the country. Coming from the two of them, that really would have been enough for me. I mean, look what this has done to my wife. I swear to God, this better have been worth it.

“Listen guys, I really appreciate the visit, but I’m pretty exhausted. I haven’t really slept since this whole thing started and I’m still like six hours ahead. Do you mind if we pick this up when I wake up?”

They fall all over themselves to leave. I see them out and let Agent Wallace back out to stand guard wherever he was before and make my way back to the bedroom. I walk into the darkened room and Donna’s there, sitting up in bed staring at the door. She looks strung out. She’s really worrying me.

“Baby, you have got to sleep.” I say crawling into bed next to her and pulling her down to me.

“Who’s going to watch you?”

“You’ll wake up if something happens.” I assure, having no idea why I’m participating in any of these wacky thoughts of hers. I guess I think if I show her that I care that she’s concerned and give her some sort of validation, she’ll relax a bit. I do care that she’s concerned. I just don’t know how to let her see that we’re safe. She curls down next to me and I kiss her forehead. It’s time to put my crawl into bed and stay there with her plan into action. 

TBC


	27. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

Five days later, we’re back at work. It took a lot of convincing to get Donna to come in. She’s talked to Stanley twice and I’m now able to be out of her direct line of sight. She seems to have come to terms with the thought that there is likely no continued kidnapping plan targeted against me. We still have secret service detail for a little longer, but she’s no longer constantly obsessed with the notion that she has to be constantly ready to jump in between me and danger.

I know that it was her way of dealing with the stress and trauma of what we went through, but I’ll admit to you that her devotion there made me smile. If she ever does do something stupid like throw herself between me and a bullet, I will kill her myself, but I admittedly like that she cares that much.

So, now she’s just pissed. She’s pissed at the President; she’s pissed at Leo; she’s pissed at Fitz and Nancy; and anyone else who sits downstairs in the situation room on any given thing or whoever might have been in on that decision. Of course, we can’t tell anyone what happened. The official line is that we cut our honeymoon short because of the embassy bombing. Well, that’s at least true. We just have to leave the high speed race through the Italian countryside in the company of a terrorist and then a special forces unit out of it.

Problem is, we can’t tell Stanley why I was targeted over there. I’m not sure how Donna can completely get the help she needs without divulging that information. Then again, I wasn’t in on her sessions, so she just may have told Stanley about it. I find myself not all that upset about it.

You can imagine the difficulty I’m facing with her being pissed off here. I mean, it’s easy enough to keep her away from the President. He’s a busy man and Donna doesn’t interact with him that much in any given week anyway. She can go a week or more without seeing him sometimes. Leo though, she interacts with on a daily basis. That’s going to be a bigger problem. Her new position also starts today. She’s going to be working a lot with Leo. Personnel is sending up someone to cover the phone and scheduling until someone is hired permanently. I just handed her a monster research project too. It’ll take her probably about a week to gather everything I need. That was my intention. I wanted to snow her into her desk and limit her contact with people for a little while. I just want to give her time to adjust to being back here without people bugging the shit out of her.

She’s just about to walk out of my office and get started when Bonnie, Carol, and Ginger come in. Donna greets them pleasantly enough, but I see Bonnie squint a little curiously at her. It’s not like Donna to greet anyone without a smile. She’ll even smile at Amy if there’s people around.

“How was the trip?” Carol asks eagerly. “Was it incredible?”

“It was certainly unbelievable.” Donna replies.

“Short.” I answer quickly after noting their expressions.

“Oh, you had to come back because of the embassy thing.” Ginger surmises.

“Yeah, that sort of put a crimp in our life.” Donna says.

“That week.” I finish and glare at her. She gets the message and throws the other assistants a fake smile.

“Well, we’re heading out today for lunch.” Bonnie says. “Want to come?”

Donna looks over at me. Now, this is not the best idea, at least not today. Everyone knows that I’m infamous for making Donna work through lunch. But on the other hand, the break out of the building will probably do her good. Against my better judgment, I shrug my indifference at her.

She looks over at them and nods, “Yeah, okay.”

“Great! We want to hear all about Italy.” Bonnie smiles as they walk out of my office.

“Great!” Donna mimics after they leave. “I have four hours to think up a lie.” She picks up the legal pad she was writing on and heads for the door.

“Hey.” I call out stopping her. She turns around and looks at me. She looks annoyed. “Why don’t you call over to them around 11:30 and tell them you have to work through lunch?” Maybe this isn’t such a hot idea.

She pushes the door shut. “Why don’t I just call over and tell them my government did something that almost got you killed and I’m not in the mood to be nice?” Okay. Well, at least she closed the door first.

“It almost got you killed, too.” I remind her.

“Yeah, well, whatever.” she scoffs. It makes me crazy that she undermines her experience. Yeah, it was me that was the target, but they were shooting at her, too. And they most definitely would have killed her first.

“Donna...” I say letting her see my frustration.

“Fine. I’ll call over there later and cancel.” she says walking to the door. “You have staff.” she calls over her shoulder and returns to the bullpen.

I hate to jump to conclusions, but I’m thinking Donna’s not going to make it here until the end of the term. She’s either going to have to come to grips with this or find another job. It’s occurred to me now, and not for the first time, that if she leaves for another job, I don’t think I’ll stay without her. She’s pretty pivotal to my job, and maybe I can adjust to someone new, but...well...she’s pretty pivotal to my job. She’s been working with me for five years now and while I can go to another job and have a different assistant, I don’t think I can work in the White House and do this job without out. Maybe I can, but I don’t really want to find out, I guess is what I’m saying.

I leave my office and glance over to her at her desk. She had the biggest workspace in the bullpen and it’s no surprise to me that she kept it. The new clerical assistant will be set up in the desk next to Donna’s cubical. Everything for Donna’s job is already there anyway. She gives me a weak smile and I let out a long breath. This is going to be a long week. We have this week, then three days next week before we fly to Wisconsin for four days. Everyone pretty much agreed we can still go. I think that’ll give Donna a chance to absorb the week and a half we’ll have been back.

I walk into Leo’s office before CJ and Toby get there. Leo’s not in there when I come in, but he enters almost immediately.

“How you doing this morning, Josh?” he asks me. I’m thinking we’re starting the daily let’s check Josh’s psyche again.

“Fine.”

“How’s Donna?”

“Fine.”

“You sure?” he asks. Oh shit.

“Yeah.”

“I said good morning to her and she didn’t say anything.” Leo says. Crap.

“Maybe she didn’t hear you.” I suggest.

“She was looking right at me.” Dammit.

“She’s a little weirded out by being here today.” I say. “She just needs time to adjust.”

“I got the impression she’s a little pissed at me.” he continues. Okay, so this is getting bad.

“Leo...” I start.

“It’s okay if she is, Josh.” Leo nods. “She’s allowed to be pissed at the President and I.”

“It’s just she doesn’t have all the information, and neither do I, and if that’s the way it’s got to be, I’ll live with it, but since she doesn’t have the information, she doesn’t see the big picture...”

“He was planning to blow up the Golden Gate Bridge.” Leo interrupts me. “Among other things.”

THAT’S what was so important? We assassinated him because of the freaking Golden Gate Bridge? We didn’t just arrest him? I mean, how many people are on that at any given time? Yeah all right, I know it’s like a whole big tourist attraction and there’s a lot of stuff to do around it, and a decommissioned military thing ... I’m starting to see why I have virtually nothing to do with national security.

“The Golden Gate Bridge.” I say. Even I can hear how unconvinced I am.

“Among other things.” he repeats. CJ and Toby come in and the subject is dropped. Instead of taking my normal seat near Leo’s desk, I move to the far end of the couch. The Golden Gate Bridge for my wife’s life wasn’t a good enough answer. Maybe it is to the good people of San Francisco, but not to me. To me, if you have proof he’s going to blow it up, arrest him.

Senior staff drags on. It’s the first one I’ve been in without Sam and that’s depressing me, on top of what Leo said.

“Josh, you’ll work with Will on the legislative section of in inaugural?” Toby says to me. They’ve all stood up and I’m the only one still sitting. Looks like the meeting’s over. Well, I hope they didn’t say anything too important.

“Who’s Will?” I ask.

“Will Bailey.” Toby reminded. “The speechwriter.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I say standing up. I’m out of the room before they are.

When I return to my office, Donna’s in there in a visitor’s chair with her feet up reading through a file, along with a guy I’ve never seen before.

“Who’s this?” I ask.

“Ted.” she says without looking up.

“Will.” the guy corrects.

“Bill?” I ask.

“Will.” he repeats.

“Not Ted?” Donna asks finally looking up.

“No, not for some time. Will Bailey.”

“Who’s Ted then?” she asks looking at me, and I smile. She’s hazing Sam’s replacement. Well, at least she’s having some fun today.

“I never got your name.” Will says to Donna.

“Donna.” she says.

“Josh’s assistant.” Will nods.

“She’s the special assistant to the chief of staff and deputy chief of staff.” I correct thinking that this poor guy is going to end up being an outlet for our crappy moods today.

“She’s not your assistant?” Will asks.

“I have about ten assistants.”

“I was explicitly told not to try and date your assistant.” Will says. What? Why would someone tell him that?

“Well, you can have the other nine, some are guys though, but this one’s my wife.” I say pointing to Donna.

“Is that was she’s a special assistant?” he quips. Oooh, a funny one. “I’m getting confused.”

“Try and keep up, Walter.” Donna says back to her reading.

“Will.”

“Who’s Walter?” she asks me and I shrug.

“All right.” Will sighs and turns to leave. Wow. We broke him a little too quickly.

“What do you need, Will?” I ask.

“Toby wants me to work with you on the legislative section of the speech.” he says.

“All right, well send over what you got.” I say.

“Okay.” he says and walks out.

Donna looks up at me and smiles. I walk over and put my hands on the arms of her chair and lean in and kiss her. I don’t know how long the smile will stay. If it fades, I’ll have to get Bill Hailey to come back. 

TBC


	28. What We Are

DONNA’S POV

I’m sitting on the edge of my bed in my old room at my parents’ house. Josh is stretched out on the bed. I think he might be dozing. We got here about an hour ago. My parents went to bed not long after we showed up, since we got here so late. The room doesn’t look too much different than when I left it five years ago. When I left the campaign and came back here, I decided to “de-kid” my room. After spending six weeks around serious adults, I thought it was high time all the high school trophies and banners and all that got packed away. The room’s the same soft pink it was when I was growing up, but everything else is different, except the furniture.

I’m sitting on the bed and looking over to my t.v. that’s shut off. I remember sitting in this exact spot and watching the President debate in a primary. I remember watching the post-debate commentary by various members of the candidates’ staffs. One of the panelists was Josh, who has now moved from his position and has literally curled his body around mine as I continue to look at the blank television. I reach down and stroke his hair. He’s still got his eyes closed and I think he’s in that place between sleep and awake where you’re trying desperately to get those extra few minutes, or to just teeter off and just fall asleep. Looking at the t.v., I realize that this was also where I was sitting when I made the decision to return to the campaign.

I remember the post-debate commentary clearly. I remember everything about that debate and commentary because it ended up changing my life. I remember watching Josh and thinking he sure felt passionately about the governor’s issues and views. I remember thinking it must be special to be part of something like that and work for a man like that.

The next day I got in the car.

I’m sure at the time that I thought that about the President, and thought that it must be special to be part of that and work for a man like him. But as I sit here and reflect the course my life’s taken, and I think back to the day I left to go back, I’m wondering if it was Josh I was driving to the whole time. Both times. I mean, that’s kind of weird, isn’t it? I watch the debate and the post-debate commentary, then the next day I drive to New Hampshire and pick his office?

Is this, like, the biggest coincidence on the planet, or is it more like Fatal Attraction and I should be picking up on the warning signs?

Maybe it’s proof that we really are soulmates. Because I really think that I was driving to New Hampshire to work for Josh, and not for the President/Governor. And if that’s the case, then it’s Josh’s ideas I shared and his view of the world. And Josh is the reason why I stayed through transition to work at the White House in the first place. Of course, I knew he was the reason why I stayed all these years, but now I can’t help but think he’s the reason why I started.

I’ve always been more loyal to Josh than the President. Always. Everything I’ve done has been about doing a good job for Josh and not wanting him to be disappointed in me. Sure, working for the President of the United States is something I’ll tell my grandkids about. But the stories I tell are going to be about me and Josh.

I look down at him and he’s looking back up at me. I wonder how long he’s been looking at me. I mean, that’s a pretty unflattering angle, looking up someone’s nose, even if you are in love with that person.

As he’s looking up at me and I’m looking down at him, I know that it was him I was driving to. He was the reason I drove to New Hampshire, and he was the reason I drove back. And I’m destined to do this job with him. Which I guess boils down to staying at the White House for the duration.

I wonder if I should tell him this. For someone who doesn’t believe in destiny and fate and all that, it’d probably blow his mind a little bit. Or quite possibly scare the hell out of him. But I doubt that, since all I did was hire myself as his assistant. I didn’t make him fall in love with me. Well, I guess I did, but I didn’t do it by slipping him a love potion or some other witchcraft.

I suddenly have the overwhelming desire to connect with him. I wonder if he feels the same way because he props himself up on his arms and kisses me. The kiss deepens and we’ve shifted our bodies back up by the pillows. It’s a good thing everybody’s gone to bed and I thought to shut the door. Well, I guess my parents wouldn’t be too shocked, we are married. I guess by now they’ve figured out we’re having sex.

He quickly pulls my shirt over my head and I do the same. I love this man’s chest. I could run my hands over it for hours. All that running and mostly healthy eating I make him do really pays off. At least for me. My bra’s next and he immediately starts kissing my breasts. I admit that I never really thought I was overly blessed in the breast department, until Josh got a hold of them...literally. He has that way of making me feel like every party of my body is beautiful and that I’m his temple. It’s a nice feeling, I tell you.

Ooohhh. So is that.

For someone who can pursue a cause as aggressively as he can, he’s that much more gentle with me. I arch up to his mouth and allow him to drink me in as I run my hands along his bare back. I feel like I’m coming full circle right now. My pants are the next to go. He heads south and I grab a pillow to cover my mouth. I swear to God, when he kisses me like this I think he’s kissing my very soul. He never fails to find the center of my very being. As my orgasm slams through me, I scream into the pillow.

He chuckles and crawls back up my body, plucking the pillow away from my face. “What was that, baby? I didn’t quite hear you.” I smack him in the arm and he settles himself over me, brushing hair out of my face that I assume found it’s way there when I was writhing around just a few minutes ago.

My breath catches at the change in his expression. He’s gone from smirking to serious. I bring my hands up to his face and whisper, “Joshua,” as he pushes up into me. I can’t remember now what I was going to say. I’m pretty sure there was going to be something more there. But as he makes love to me, all thoughts of anything other than this amazing, passionate, tender, brilliant man slip away. Another two orgasms later and we’re tangled together. His eyes are closed, but I know he’s not asleep yet.

“Baby?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“What were you thinking about before?”

“When?”

“When you were just sitting on the bed staring off into space.”

“I wasn’t staring off into space, I was looking at the t.v.” I correct.

“Okay, well, that’s a little disconcerting because the t.v. wasn’t on.” he says.

“Do you really want to do know?” I ask hesitantly.

“Uh-huh.”

“The day before I drove to New Hampshire.”

He props himself up on his elbow and looks at me. “You told me you saw the primary debate on t.v.”

“Right through the commentaries at the end.” I say and he nods, then leans down and kisses by bare shoulder. “You were on that panel.” I say.

His head pops up and he furrows his forehead like he’s remembering back to that day. “Yes, I was.”

“Well, I was thinking that I remembered you being pretty passionate when you talked about the President, or governor.”

“Are you saying you joined the campaign because of me?”

I shrug in response. “I don’t think I thought that at the time, but I did drive there and pick your office.” He’s looking at me now with the face that he gets when he’s doing electoral math in his head. “And working for you was definitely the reason I went back, and the reason why I stayed through transition to work in the White House.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “You’re going to make fun of me now.”

“I’m not going to make fun of you.”

“What’s this then?”

“My mojo sends out waves across the country.”

“You would have thought I would have seen your ego from here.” I deadpan, and he starts to tickle me. I shriek and squirm around underneath him. He finally pins my hands and I admit defeat, breathing heavily and looking up at him.

“Actually, I was thinking, thank God one of us saw the signs.” 

TBC


	29. What We Are

JOSH’S POV

I’m starting to get a little antsy sitting in the Moss’s living room with Donna’s dad. Yesterday was Thanksgiving where Donna’s entire extended family was here, and every republican in her family pretty much made a bee line for me. Thank God Donna’s dad was next to me, piping in with a ‘yeah, what Josh said,’ when it looked like I needed back up. Donna’s mother kidnapped her this evening for some home party at one of her friends’ house. Donna just shrugged as her mother dragged her out the door.

“What the hell were they going to tonight?” I ask.

“Oh who the hell keeps up?” Bob answers handing me a beer and switching on Wolf Blitzer. “It’s candles or pottery or some thing I can’t wash in the sink because you can’t get soap on it. She went to a wine tasting party a few weeks ago. I don’t ask. It’s best you don’t either.”

I nod and try to get into whatever Wolf’s rambling about, but I’m too distracted. My thoughts keep drifting back to Wednesday night and the things Donna said. I’m not a man of faith. I lost faith when my father died. I’m a man of numbers and statistics and as Donna likes to say, cold hard math. You want to win an argument with me, you come to me with facts and science. It’s not, like, completely impossible to turn my opinion, but you’re not going to do it with an argument about having faith.

So you can imagine how heady it is for a guy like me to hear that Donna drove across the country because she heard what I said in the commentary and then picks my office to answer the phone in. I believe her when she says at the time she was thinking about the President, but it is kind of weird that she picked my office. I was awake for a while thinking about that; thinking that even before we met, we were tuned to each other.

See, here’s the thing; here’s what I didn’t tell Donna. The morning of that debate, I found out about my father’s cancer. That afternoon, Mandy had told me she wanted to get back together. There was a lot going through my mind that night. The next day when I was weighing the pros and cons of getting back together with her, I kept coming back to the thought that I was tired of dating shrews. That afternoon, I found Donna in my office. 

I’m not a man of faith, but I do sometimes wonder if she was sent to me. How can I not after what she said? Like, could she tell in that t.v. appearance that I needed something? Yeah, I know. My selfishness and self-absorbtion has reached a new level here, but I often get this way when Donnatella is involved. I can’t help it. She’s just ALWAYS there for me. She picked my office. I’m not the most organized guy on the planet, but I’m not the most disorganized one either. She’s made me better, but my office wasn’t that much of a disaster. By the end of that first week, she was reading me like a book, and I was taking her everywhere with me.

I’m also gathering from what she said that she wants to stay at the White House. I was serious when I said I’d leave, but I’m happy that she’s thinking about staying. I just don’t feel like I’m done there yet. I think there’s a lot left there she and I can do. And I simply cannot handle that building without her. I think she gets that.

The front door opens and Donna and her mother come in. Donna’s carrying a non-descript paper shopping bag and has a dazed look on her face. She’s also got a hint of her I’ve-got-a-secret-Joshua-face on.

“So, what was the mystery party?” I ask standing up and walking over to them.

“Now, don’t blow you stack.” she starts out. Okay. This should be good.

“How much money did you spend?” I ask.

“Oh, Josh. I don’t think it’s going to be an issue of that.” Carol Moss says giggling and walking away. I look over at my wife who is blushing suspiciously. She grabs my hand and leads me upstairs to our room, she closes the door and moves to stand next to the bed.

“What’s with the cloak and dagger?” I ask her. She turns the bag over and the contents fall out onto the bed. It’s an array of sex toys, lotions, and something that I really just can’t identify. Oh, and apparently a catalog.

Oh, dear Lord.

“It was a Fantasia party.” she says.

“What the hell is that?” I squeak. Yeah, I’m squeaking. I’m a little disturbed. The size of some of these things is just...wrong.

“What’s it look like?” she counters.

“You went to somebody’s house and someone was there selling this stuff?” she nods her head.

I’m feeling faint.

“With your mother?!”

“Yeah, well, that was a little weird.”

“Donnatella, tell me your name isn’t on a carbon copy of some sales slip somewhere in Wisconsin now.” I say with as much dread as I can muster. I mean, can you imagine if the wrong person saw THIS?

“It was cash and carry.” she says confidently, like that means something to me.

“Donna, your mother brags about what we do. You’re going to tell me the people there tonight don’t know where we work?” This is mildly mortifying. I mean, I’m looking forward to some of this stuff, quite truthfully, but...okay...what the hell is this thing? I hold up something that I’m mostly unable to describe. I mean, I think it started out in the form of a penis, but now...I look up at her and arch a brow.

“That’s called the Bionic Bunny.” she says. “It has a remote control.” A remote control? What the...

“Baby, if you’re looking to this thing, I’m not doing my job.” I say studying it closer. “Who makes this stuff anyway? Black and Decker?”

“I have no idea.” she shrugs. “That’s not even the one with turbo.”

Turbo?! I look up at her and she smirks. Wait a second. Was that a can-you-just-imagine-a-sex toy-with-turbo-speed-face; or was it her I-had-you-going-face? A small round tin catches my attention. “52 Sexual Position Flash Cards.” I read off. Okay. This could be interesting here. I open the tin and start to leaf through them.

I didn’t think this stuff could make me blush.

I was wrong.

“The Oohhh My position looks...” I drift off and Donna looks over my shoulder.

“Yeah, I wasn’t quite sure the logistics of that one.”

“It looks like you need a spotter for that.”

“Look in the catalog.” she says. “They sell a sling you can use for some of those.”

A sling? A SLING?

“Others use something called the Pushin Cushion.”

“Okay.” I say with finality and throw all the stuff back into the bag. I sit on the edge of bed and drop my head in between my knees. Donna’s laughing next to me and rubbing my back.

“I never would have taken you for a prude, Joshua.” she laughs.

“A prude?” I squeak. “No, baby, not a prude. But...”

“You’re the one who brought that equipment comment.” she throws back.

“That was a joke!” I exclaim. Well, it was mostly a joke. I mean, some of this is a little over the top here, but others look fun. “We’re supposed to bring this on a plane?”

“We could ship it.” she shrugs. I feel my eyes widen at that. Hell no! Something catches my attention on the bed. Something I didn’t throw into the bag. It’s a little red heart. I pick it up. This looks harmless enough.

“That’s the Panty Pal.” Donna says. She sounds excited. “It attaches magnetically, and you put it right over...”

“Okay!” I cut her off.

“No one would ever know!”

“I am forbidding you, absolutely forbidding you, Donnatella, from putting this on in the White House.” I mean every time I look at her at work now, I’m going to be wondering if she’s snuck this little baby through. She actually looks a little disappointed. “You’re killing me over here, baby.” I groan.

But she smiles brightly. “Yeah, but what a way to go!” 

TBC


	30. What We Are

DONNA’S POV

It’s inauguration day. Imagine my surprise when just as I’m thinking that we’re going to pack it in to go home and get ready, Charlie tells me the President wants to see me up in the Residence. The Residence? Not the Oval Office? Josh is off in the building somewhere, so I stick a note on his computer. This ought to be good.

I haven’t really spoken to the President since the whole Italy thing. I mean when he’s greeted me, I’ve said hello, but I’ve done a pretty good job of not allowing myself to be engaged in any kind of conversation. I’m afraid of what would come out of my mouth. Of course, sooner or later I was going to have to hold an actual conversation with him. When you’re in my position in the White House, it’s relatively easy to avoid the President, but when you’re married to the man I am...not so much. Leo and I usually communicate through Margaret. She’s the go between on the research projects Leo needs.

Josh hasn’t really pushed the issue since I’m not rude or blatantly insubordinate, but I know it’ll make it easier for him if I bury the hatchet, so to speak. I mean, if we’re going to be here for another four years, this isn’t going to work. I either find another job or work it out. And if I find another job, Josh will have to find another job. And it’s not that I don’t think Josh could find another job, he’d probably have one in an hour, but I think he’s meant to do this for a while.

I enter the Residence and the President is standing in the sitting room. He’s got his tux shirt and pants on, but the collar is open and he’s missing his jacket.

“Good evening, Donna.” he greets me. I paste what I hope is a friendly smile on my face.

“Good evening, sir.” I reply.

“Are you leaving soon to get ready for tonight’s galas?”

“Yes, sir. I was just about to go.” I nod.

“Well, I’ll try not to keep you too long then.”

“I appreciate that.” What? That wasn’t rude. I do appreciate it. I have a whole hair, nail, make-up, skin treatment thing that has to get done in like two hours here. Plus, you’re forgetting I have Joshua, too. I have to pull off a miracle here.

“I realize that you and I haven’t really talked since November.” he starts. What he really means here is Donna, you’ve been avoiding me since you almost got killed in Italy, don’t think I didn’t notice.

“No, I guess we haven’t.” I say without committing to the conversation. Oh please, I’ve literally learned from the best. Josh and I spent years saying things to each other that were specifically formed to read between the lines. I’m no slouch at this.

“Well, I haven’t been afforded an opportunity to apologize to you.” he says.

Wow. I can’t say I was expecting that. An apology? I was frankly expecting...well, I don’t really know what I was expecting; maybe a I can’t tell you why you were almost shot, sorry, those are the breaks.

“Apologize to me, sir?” Don’t look at me like that. If the President of the United States was personally apologizing to you, you’d drag it all out of him too, trust you me. Josh would probably drag me out of the room right now, if he were here.

“Yes, Donna.” he confirms. “I can’t tell you everything we knew about Shareef. I can tell you that I hounded the powers that played here for the maximum amount of information I could get. I waited and waited until I had absolutely everything I needed, and then I dragged my feet giving the order until the absolute possible second.” he pauses to gauge my reaction I think and I’m momentarily reminded that he’s a politician. I think of him as the President. I’m not sure I’ve ever really looked at him in the context of a politician. “Donna, if I thought for one second that yours or Josh’s life would have been in danger I would have asked you not to leave the country. We had no warning of those attacks. And I certainly didn’t think someone would try to get to Josh. You don’t have to accept my apology, but I at least wanted to extend the olive branch.”

I stand there for a moment looking at him, contemplating the power of the moment. I see the President’s eyes move to something over my shoulder, and I don’t have to turn around to know that Josh just entered the room. Josh didn’t mention it, but I wonder now if the President already went through this with him.

“I can’t imagine it would have been an easy decision for you to make, sir.” I say softly.

“It wasn’t.” he says.

The tension is lifted in that moment. He extended the olive branch, and I accepted it. I feel Josh’s arms come around me, and he rests his chin on my shoulder. I’m a little surprised at the gesture in the presence of the President, but I don’t care. It was perfectly timed, as far as I’m concerned.

“Oh kids, I don’t know.” the President sighs. “We were blessed with a second bite at the apple. When I think of the things we can do now that we don’t have re-election hanging, over us, the possibilities are nearly endless. You, Josh, are obviously spoiling for a fight after the foreign aid bill.”

“Yes, sir.” he says from his position on my shoulder.

“And, Donna, I hope you don’t mind me saying how proud I am of how far you’ve come. Many of the projects Leo gives you, end up on my desk, and I’m vastly impressed. I think Josh has primed you well for that position and has expertly exploited your talents in that arena.” I can feel myself blush. I didn’t want it, but I can’t stop it. I can see now that I’m forgiving him. Quite frankly, I knew if he ever got me alone, I would. I have a wonderful relationship with my father, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I also viewed the President as a father figure. I think we all do to an extent. Though I think Josh’s loyalty in that arena falls solely with Leo.

“It’s a new term and a new day, and I think we’re going to do wonderful things.” he smiles at us. “I think you, Josh, are going to especially enjoy yourself over the next four years.”

“I think you’re right, sir.” he smiles from behind me.

“Well, I believe you two have eight balls to go get ready for.” the President says dismissing us. “And I think it started snowing, so be careful out there, and I’ll see you in a little while.”

“Yes, sir.” We say and leave the Residence.

“I about had a heart attack when I found where you were.” Josh says quietly as we walk down the elegant stairway that takes us back to the West Wing.

“Well, I couldn’t say no.” I replied.

“I know, but I wasn’t really sure what to expect.” he confesses sheepishly.

“Did you think I was going to try to put the leader of the free world in a headlock?” I ask.

“Umm...maybe.”

“Joshua!”  
He chuckles as we reach his office. I smile as I see that he has gathered both our bags and shut down our computers before he came to find me. We stop just inside his office and I step into his embrace. He reaches out and pushes the door shut before he completely encases me.

“Eight balls.” I sigh.

“Yeah, we’re going to be tired tomorrow.” he agrees.

“Maybe I’ll take your laptop home with us and work from home tomorrow.” I say slyly.

“Why don’t we just take the day off?” he counters.

I smile slowly at him. “And do what?”

He shrugs. “We could stay in bed all day.” he leers pulling my earlobe into his mouth.

“Mmm...I like the sound of that.”

“Make love all day.”

“I like the sound of that, too.”

“Have a contraceptive accident.” What?

“What?”

“Or not.” he says quickly.

“It seems you have something to discuss with the class.” I smile. I’m not at all opposed to this idea, quite frankly. It’s not like kids weren’t in the plan. And if we wait until we’re out of office, we’ll both be...well, four years older. He shrugs with an air of indifference, but his eyes are dead serious, while at the same time sporting a hint of mischievousness.

“Well, I don’t know if the timing is right,” I begin. “but I think I can get behind that idea.” He smiles and kisses me. I must say I’m looking forward to the baby making part. Josh and I are nothing if not completely compatible in bed. We’re tender, we’re spontaneous, we’re made for each other, we’re in tune with each other, and we’re completely mad about each other. In short, it’s simply what we are.

THE END


End file.
